Cinema Papers Nos.97-98 April 1994

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2

BRIEFLY

4

‘LIGHTNING JA C K ’ : SIMON WINCER

12

THE INDUSTRY COM M ENTS

Interview by Scott Murray

Sue Milliken, John Morris, Stuart Cunningham,

Lyndon Sayer-Jones, Dr. Patricia Edgar, Anne Britton, Andrew Pike, Jennifer Sabine

24

WORKING IN AM ERICA

28

ON THE WALL A T MY PLACE

30

‘PARADISE BEACH ’ RECONSIDERED

34

AU S TR A LIA ’S FIRST FILMS: SCREENING THE SALVATION ARMY

Richard Franklin Jim Schembri Peter M. Schembri and Jackie Malone

Part 7 of a continuing historical feature by Chris Long

42

PORDENONE SILENT FILM FESTIVAL

SPECIAL 47

INSERT

FILM REVIEWS

Graham Shirley

NEW ZEALAND SUPPLEMENT

Scott Murray

Bawang Bie Ji (Farewell My Concubine) Stephen Teo;

Broken Highway Dena Gleeson; The Custodian Raymond Younis; The Remains of the Day Brian McFarlane; Schindler’s List Hayley Smorgon; True Romance John Conomos

57

BOOK REVIEWS

Sites of Difference: Cinematic Representations of Aboriginality

and Gender Reviewed by Marcus Breen; The Films of Alfred Hitchcock Reviewed by Ken Mogg Lighting By Design: A Technical Guide and The Control of Light Reviewed by Leilani Hannah Art & Artists on Screen Reviewed by Anna Dzenis

68

PRODUCTION SURVEY

76

TECH N ICA LITIES A RETROSPECTIVE Fred

88

NIHIL O B S TA T NINE

Harden

ontributors MARCUS BREEN is a freelance writer on film and music; JOHN CONOMOS lectures at the College of Fine Arts, University of NSW; ANNA DZENIS is a tutor in

Cinema Studies at LaTrobe University, Melbourne; RICHARD FRANKLIN is about to begin production on an adaptation of Hanme Rayson's award-winning play Hotel Sorrento; DENA GLEESON is a lecturer in Cinema Studies at LaTrobe University; LEILANI HANNAH is a freelance writer on film and a camera assistant to Geoffrey Burton; CHRIS LONG is a Melbourne film historian; JACKIE MALONE works for the Concentration Area in Media Policy and Practice, Queensland University of Technology; BRIAN McFARLANE is an Associate Professor in the English Department at Monash University: KEN MOGG edits MacGuffin: Newsletter of the Film/Alfred Hitchcock Special Interest Group; JIM SCHEMBRI is a film and entertainment features writer at The Age: PETER M. SCHEMBRI works for the Concentration Area in Media Policy and Practice, Queensland University of Technology; GRAHAM SHIRLEY is a freelance documentary filmmaker and researcher, and co-author of Australian Cinema: The First Eighty Years; HAYLEY SMORGON is a recent honours graduate in Visual Arts at Monash University; STEPHEN TEO is a film critic specializing in Hong Kong cinema and other Chinese language films; RAYMOND YOUNIS is a lecturer at the University of Sydney and a passionate lover of films.

Editor: Scott Murray; Assistant Editor: Raffaele Caputo; Technical Editor: Fred Harden; Administrative Manager: J. Brodie Hanns; Advertising: Barry Telfer; Subscriptions: Raffaele Caputo; MTV Board of Directors: Chris Stewart (Chairman), Patricia Amad, Ross Dimsey, Natalie Miller; Legal Adviser: Dan Pearce, Holding Redlich Solicitors. Design: Ian Robertson, Marius Foley; Bromide Output: Witchtype P/L; Printing: Jenkin Buxton; Distribution: Network Distribution. © Copyright 1994, MTV Publishing Limited A.C.N. 006 258 699. Signed articles represent the views of the authors and not necessarily that of the editor and publisher. While every care is taken with manuscripts and materials supplied to the magazine, neither the editor nor the publisher can accept liability for any loss or damage which may arise. This magazine may not be reproduced in whole or part without the express permission of the copyright owners. Cinema Papers is published every two months by MTV Publishing Limited, 43 Charles Street Abbotsford, Victoria, Australia 3067 Telephone (03) 429 5511. Fax (03) 427 9255 Cinema Papers is published with financial assistance from the Australian Film Commission and Fiim Victoria.

B R I E F L Y

CI N Australian Film Focus in Madrid Forthcoming in March at the annual Festival of Experimental Cinema in Madrid is a major retro­

This special double issue is part of a celebration of C in e m a P a p e r s ’

Although

C in e m a P apers

spective of Australian experimental cinema from the 1960s to the present.

twenty years of publication in its present format.

The programme contains more than 50 films by

first appeared in 1967, it was not until December

a diverse range of film m akers including Jane

1973 that the first of the magazine-format issues appeared (dated January 1974). Over the next twenty years,

C in e m a P apers

has seen many changes

(with different editors and a smaller design size), but its commitment to

Campion, Arthur and Corinne Cantrill, John Dunkley­ Smith, Laleen Jayamanne, Dusan Marek, Tracey Moffatt, Albie Thoms, Tony Twigg and Paul Winkler. The most substantial survey of Australian ex­ perimental films to be staged in the international

Australian cinema has not only remained firm but strengthened. Coverage of

arena, the programme is curated by Marie Craven,

foreign films used to represent up to 50 per cent of an issue’s content, but

who will be in Madrid to present the Australian

today that has dropped to less than 10 per cent. While this may not have always been a popular move (sometimes Australian films are less interesting than what’s happening concurrently elsewhere),

C in e m a P apers

has found the

extra space necessary to continue its wide-ranging exploration of feature film production in Australia.

Focus. Critic Adrian Martin has written the catalogue essay and will also participate as a judge of the International Competition section of the Festival. The Festival of Experimental Cinema is staged in association with Arte Contemporáneo (ARCO), Madrid. The Australian Focus has received gener­ ous support from the Australian Film Commission and the Australian Embassy, Madrid.

Part of that commitment will be celebrated in

in the 10th Anniversary issue and it was

various ways in this and other issues. For a

decided to return the favour to discuss his

start, as with the 10th Anniversary double

eagerly-awaited new film with Paul Hogan,

issue in May 1984, top industry professionals

Lightning Jack.

• • • • •

FILM

VICTORIA

NEWS

and commentators have provided analyses of

As many readers will have also noted, this

how they seethe film industry in Australia over

issue also contains a 52pp. New Zealand

New M arketing Venture

the next decade.

Supplement. In 1980, Cinema Papers did a

The Melbourne Film Office, a new film industry

As well, two noted Cinema Papers writers

similar supplement and it was felt the deci­

marketing and locations advisory service offered

give more personal vie w p o in ts: R ichard

sion to recross the Tasman was long over­

by Film Victoria, was officially launched by the

Franklin, the acclaimed director who has w rit­

due. Many thanks to Lindsay Shelton, Sales

Hon. Haddon Storey, QC, MLC, Minister for the

ten for Cinema Papers since day one (and who

and Marketing Director of the New Zealand

Arts, on 15 December 1993 at the Melbourne Film

very happily is back writing again), contributes

Film Commission, who provided invaluable

Studio. The Minister also launched the new Film

an article on the differences between working

help and guidance.

Production Handbook for Victoria and Tasmania.

here and in the U.S.

This Supplement, along with the special

A forum on the role of the Office was held just

The other ‘memoir’ is from Jim Schembri,

Queensland issue that preceded it, marks a

prior to the launch, at which Jenifer Hooks, execu­

whose first writings appeared in Cinema Pa­

growing trend at Cinema Papers to give sev­

tive director of Film Victoria, and Mariel Beros,

pers. They became the launching pad for his

eral issues a year particular topics of discus­

manager of the new Melbourne Film Office, out­

subsequent career as a feature writer for The

sion. Sometimes it will be with a special Sup­

lined the services to be offered.

Age in Melbourne.

plement, sometimes just a grouping of arti­

The Office provides locations advice to produc­

Fred Harden, who has been compiling

cles. The next issue, for example, as is tradi­

ers interested in shooting in Victoria; and markets

“Technicalities” for as long as anyone can

tional, will be the special Cannes issue with a

the industry and its services and facilities nation­

remember, has prepared a special tribute which

round-up of all the Australian films hopeful of

ally and internationally. It represents Victoria’s

examines Cinema Papers’ discussion of tech­

making a mark at Cannes this year.

interests in the Export Film Services Association,

nical advances and equipment over the past

The issue after will be Cinema Papers'

two decades. Sadly, this will be Fred’s last

100th, and another excuse for some celebra­

exports and access Austrade financial assistance.

issue as he is now the editor of Australian

tion. The poll of the Top Ten Australian films

The Office will also facilitate production by fam il­

MultiMedia. Cinema Papers wishes him well.

of all time announced in the previous issue

iarizing local authorities with film and television

Finally, Simon Wincer, whose most recent

has been held over till then, giving readers of

production procedures.

release is the hit Free Willy, completes the

the magazine even more time to send in their

sense of celebration. Simon was interviewed

selections.

Happy reading, The Editor

a federal body set up to increase film service

The Melbourne Film Office was formed after wide consultation with the industry. This close relationship with its clients will be maintained by

2 . CINEMA

PAPERS

97/98

the Office through the establishm ent of industry advisory groups representing the services and facilities sector, commercial producers, and loca­ tions and production managers. One of the O ffice’s first tasks has been to co­ ordinate the visit of Alfonso Arau, acclaimed direc­ tor of the Mexican art house hit Like Water for Chocolate, to scout locations for his next feature film, a $20 million Hollywood film called A Walk in the Clouds. Arau’s interest in Victoria has been stimulated by photographs he has been sent of local locations and the prospect of saving between 30 and 40 per cent on his budget by using Austral­ ian locations, crews and facilities. Film and television production is a substantial contributor to the Victorian economy. The Austral­ ian Film Com m ission’s recent National Production Survey puts the value of feature film and television production in Victoria at $78.5 million, up from $70 million in 1991/92.

New Film Board fo r Film Victoria Victoria’s Minister for the Arts, Haddon Storey, announced three new appointments to the Board of Film Victoria. Producers Lynda House, Daniel Scharf and writer Mac Gudgeon have been ap­ pointed for three-year terms. The Minister thanked outgoing Board members Eve Ash, Justice Howard Nathan, Sharon Connolly and Roger Simpson for their dedicated contribu­ tion to Film Victoria. Storey: Film Victoria is the leading state government film agency in Australia and I expect the new appoint­ ments will contribute to the organization’s depth of project evaluation and assessment skills.

New Docum entary M anager

industry background and a strong interest in au­

Sally Ingleton has taken up the position of acting

diovisual heritage.”

Each of the new appointments is a profes­

documentary manager for a period of three months.

sional from within the film industry. The principle

Ingleton comes to Film Victoria after having

cil are Victoria Rubensohn as Chair, as well as

of appointing practitioner Board members at Film

spent several years as an independent documen-,

Tony Buckley, Fij Miller, Alan Bateman and Les

Victoria was established by the Hamer Liberal

tary producer-director. Her most recent film, The

Hell. M cM ullan: “ I am very pleased that Ms

government and that principle has contributed to

Tenth Dancer, was co-financed by ABC Televi­

Rubensohn will continue to bring to the NFSA her

the success the corporation has achieved since it

sion, BBC Television and the Australian Film Fi­

wealth of experience in the recording and broad­

began.

nance Corporation.

casting industries, as a lecturer and communica­

Film Victoria plays a rôle through its funding of scripts, production investments and marketing assistance to local producers. Recent projects which have received assistance include M uriel’s Wedding, That Eye the Sky, Speed, The Heart­ break Kid, The Silver Brumby, Romper Stomper, Law o f the Land and Snowy. Producer Lynda House is currently in post­ production on the feature film M uriel’s Wedding, w h ich

she has c o -p ro d u c e d

w ith J o c e ly n

Moorhouse. The two last collaborated on box­ office hit and multi-award winner P roo/(Best Film,

Prior to making The Tenth Dancer, Ingleton

Each term of appointment is for two years (or

as a producer-director and has made several pro­

until a permanent Council is appointed following

grammes for government departments and com­

enactment of legislation to establish the Archive as

munity groups.

a statutory body). The chair and members serve on

Ingleton will be acting as project officer for the independent documentary sector and as execu­ tive producer on selected government documen­ tary projects. Former documentary manager Penny Robins

a part-time basis.

• • • • •

A U S T R A L I A N FILM F I N A N C E C O R P O R A T I O N (FFC) NEWS

has returned to independent production after spending three years at Film Victoria.

• • • • •

Death in Brunsw ick (associate producer) and

Appointments to the National Film and Sound Archive

Producer Daniel Scharf is completing Speed,

tions consultant.”

worked with SBS Television on the Mosaic series

1991 AFI Awards). House’s other credits include Malcolm (production manager).

The re-appointments to the NFSA Interim Coun­

An oth er 1993 Film Fund selection announced On 29 November 1993, FFC chief executive John Morris announced a third selection for the 1993 Film Fund. The project is Angel Baby written by

The former Minister for the Arts and Administrative

Michael Rymer. Angel Baby, which Rymerwill also

aw ard-w inning w riter-director G eoffrey W right

Services, Bob McMullan, announced on 22 De­

direct, will be produced by Timothy White and

(R om per Stomper, Lover Boy). As a documentary

cember 1993 a new appointment and several re­

Jonathan Shteinmen. The feature film is a love

maker, Scharf is close to completing Pat and

appointments to the Interim Council of the National

story about two lost souls who find hope and strength

E ddy’s G reyhound Racing Family, which will

Film & Sound Archive (NFSA).

in each other to accomplish the impossible.

the third of a series of films he has made with

Christopher Chapman, deputy managing di­

Rymer has studied filmmaking at the Univer­

rector of Channel 7 in Sydney, will join the Interim

sity of Southern California, where he was awarded

1977, p rin c ip a lly as a

Council for a two-year term. Chapman’s appoint­

the Warner Communications Scholarship for di­

screenwriter. A former chair of the Australian W rit­

ment fills a vacancy arising from the resignation of

recting. Two of his feature screenplays have been

ers Guild, his credits include the mini-series Wa­

writer-director Jackie McKimmie early in 1993.

screen on ABC television later this year. Filmmaker Mac Gudgeon has worked in the film

in d u s try s in ce

terfront, on which he was also associate producer.

McMullan said he welcomed the contribution

He co-wrote the feature film Ground Zero and the

Chapman will make to the NFSA: “Mr Chapman

m ini-series The Petrov Affair.

brings to the Council a distinguished television

produced, and he has also written and directed for the stage. CONTINUES

ON

CINEMA

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•3

At the time of C inema P apers’ 10th Anniversary

Wincer says he found in Lucas’ Skywalker Ranch an

issue, Simon Wincer had just seen P har Lap (1983) be­

environment similar to his beloved farm in the Yarra

come the second most successful Australian film in its

Valley. In fact, hearing Wincer passionately describe his

(George

love of the the natural beauty of the billabongs which dot

Miller, 1982), which he executive produced.

his property, one understands why he is so gifted when

Since then, Wincer has had major success in the U.S.,

filming landscape and his characters’ relationship to it

particularly with the mini-series Lonesome D ove (1989).

Wincer has a straightforward relationship with his

But nothing compares with the international acclaim and

audience. He is a fervent believer in the importance of

box office of his family drama, Free W illy (1993).

concept and script (“eighty per cent of a film is made in

Based again in Australia, Wincer has recently produced

pre-production”), and in a film’s accessibility. As he says,

(with Greg Coote) and directed Paul Hogan’s eagerly-

“If an audience doesn’t understand something, then you

awaited new comedy, Lightning Jack, which is now in inter­

haven’t done your job right and you should fix i t ”

national release. This comes after a hectic period in

A C inema P apers interview with Wincer five years

which he also directed six episodes of T he Y oung I ndiana

ago was titled “Trusting His Instincts”. So far, he

for producer George Lucas.

has been proved decidedly right.

home territory, after T he M an

J ones C hronicles

4 • CINEMA

PAPERS

97/98

from

S nowy R iver

LIGHTNING JACK After having had great success in Hollywood with Free Willy, you have come back to do an Australian film?

wonderful adventure. The style of comedy is very much like C rocod ile D u n dee’s self­ deprecating humour that Paul is so good at. It has the look of older-style Westerns, with saloons and wide streets and classic Monument Valley locations. John Wayne could ride into shot at any minute. But it’s not big on violence; it’s much bigger on laughs.

Well, Lightning J a c k is not really coming back to Australia because, although it’s an Australian movie, it was actually filmed over there. I was approached in M arch last year when I was doing an How would you compare Hogan’s character, Jack Kane, with his episode of Young Indiana Jo n es in Turkey. Greg Coote sent me characters in Crocodile D undee [Peter Faiman, 1986] and Al­ a script, which I read and thought was a lot of fun. I wanted to most an Angel [John Cornell, 1990] ? work with Paul Hogan and I wanted to do a comedy. Although I had done funny scenes, I had never done a comedy as such. I A lm ost an Angel is very different, but Jack Kane could almost be thought it would have great appeal, and also it was Australian. an ancestor of M ick ‘Crocodile’ Dundee’s. He’s probably a bit So, I decided to do it, and it has been a pretty pleasant experience. more of a larrikin than M ick, and he likes to be a bit flash - he puts a bit too much silver on his gun belt and spurs, and so on. How would you describe the film? He is laconic, though he definitely likes to get good reviews about A charming comedy, a good old-fashioned, light-hearted West­ his bank robberies, and is very upset when he doesn’t. ern about an Australian outlaw in the American west who is a FACING PAGE: JACK KANE (PAUL HOGAN) AND BEN DOYLE (CUBA GOODING JR .). SIMON WINCER'S legend in his own mind. He teams up with a young town’s boy LIGHTNING JACK. BELOW LEFT: PRODUCER-DIRECTOR SIMON WINCER. RIGHT: JACK KANE, A "LEGEND who can’t speak but is extremely bright. Together they have this IN HIS OWN M IND". LIGHTNING JACK.

Simon Wincer I think the film is a good move for Paul, because, if anyone is born to wear a cowboy hat and look good in the saddle, he is. He really fits the genre. Suddenly, there is an interest in Westerns again. Yes, which is interesting because Paul wrote this way before Unforgiven [Clint Eastwood, 1992] came out. He wrote it mainly, I think, because Linda [Kozlowski] kept saying to him, “You’d make such a great cowboy.” Some people can wear hats and Paul is one of those. Lightning ja c k took Paul a long time to get it off the ground. I think A lm ost an Angel gave him a bit of a fright because he couldn’t put a foot wrong with the ‘Crocodile’ Dundee movies. But I don’t think people wanted to see him in the role of a petty crim, with a little beanie on his head. It didn’t have the romantic image that he created in the ‘Crocodile’ Dundee movies. People want something Paul is in to be light and bright and warm, not dark. Lightning Ja c k was a really nice film to do. Comedy is a very difficult area compared to anything else I’ve done. What is funny to the eye and makes the crew laugh is usually not funny on film. Paul is also the master of understatement. Some of the nuances that he can get simply amazed me. I would say, “My God, that looks subtle”, but then I’d see it on film and he would be spot on. Almost an Angel is a curious film. It’s hated by many critics, but the degree by which it is misjudged is probably quite small. I agree with you, absolutely. It has a lot of charm, but I think Paul has such a large persona that people don’t want to see him any other way than as a romantic scallywag. Paul is just as easily recognized in America as he is here. I don’t think people here realize just how successful those ‘Crocodile’ Dundee movies were. They are both in the top 100 movies of all time: the first is number 45 and the second is about 76. That’s extraordinary. I also think there has been a lot of unfair pressure put on Paul by the media. They are all saying, “Can he come back?” I mean, Angel wasn’t exactly disastrous; it did make its money back. It’s just a minuscule success compared to the magnitude of the Croc movies. Where did you shoot Lightning] dck} It was actually a logistics nightmare be­ cause there were so many Westerns going into production at the same time. In Santa Fe, we were shooting alongside Wyatt Earp - that’s the Lawrence Kasdan film with Kevin Costner. In fact, there was one day when we were four hundred yards away and we could hear each other’s gunfire. When we went to Tucson, T om bston e [George Pan Cosmatos] was shooting there. G eronim o was also filming - that’s the Ted Turner Network version, which is actually pretty good. Then when we went to Moab, Utah, City Slickers 2 was filming there. Paul and I had dinner with Billy Crystal, because he’s a mate of Paul’s and a lot of his mates from the ‘Crocodile’ Dundee movies were working on that film. The Walter Hill version of G eronim o was also being shot in Moab. They had just finished when we arrived during pre-pro­ 6 • CINEMA

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duction. We, in fact, got most of their wranglers. Then when we went to Page, Arizona. Richard Donner was there with Mel Gibson doing M averick. We went out to their set one night and my first [assistant director] from Tree Willy, JimmyVan Wyck, was working on it. Then we were followed into Tuscon by The Q uick and the D ea d , the thing that Russell Crowe is doing. You also shot some scenes in Australia. We wanted to shoot some interiors in Australia because the cost savings were enormous, despite the fact that we had to bring cast and everything over here. There was also the fact that it was an Australian production, and, given the way the money had been raised, we needed to do all our post-production here, and a certain amount of production. So we shot at the Movie World Studios in Queensland, which are j ust terrific. God, it was good shooting there. We had five interior sets: a saloon, a bank, a gaol and a couple of bedroom sets. We shot up there for nine or ten days and that’s where we wrapped. Did you have a part-Australian crew? Every head of department was Australian. David Eggby was the cinematographer and the first assistant was Bob Donaldson, who I have worked with a lot. Bernard Hinds was the production designer, but [American] Liz Thomas was an art director because it still needed to have an American perspective to it. Bruce Rowland is the composer and we had an American editor, Nick Brown. He has cut some terrific movies over the years, from The A ccused to City Slickers and Sleeper. He’s worked with some great characters, and some wild directors. He’s even experienced the wrath of Steven Seagal. You have worked with David Eggby quite a few times. He is almost ‘your’ DOP. We started together years ago at Crawfords, and he was an operator on The Man from Snowy River. But it’s a case quite often of who is available. David is very highly regarded and as a matter of fact he’s committed to doing another film with Rob Cohen, a thing called D ragon H eart. I may not be able to get him

on my next film, which is unfortunate. I’ll have to find somebody else, but there are so many great people. I’d love to work with Dean Semler again, or with John Seale and Russell Boyd. But certainly David and I get on very well. We talk the same language, and he’s done an exquisite job on this. It looks just stunning. Eggby doesn’t seem to get the recognition here that he deserves. Quigley is sensationally photographed, as is The Salute o f the Jugger [David Peoples, 1989]. David literally directed the camera on that movie because David Peoples had not directed before. Lightning ja c k looks equally as good as Q uigley. Y ou can’t go wrong with the locations and we both like to work around the movement of the sun, trying to back-light everything we can. David also knows how to compromise. If the sun goes in, he knows what he can get away with, and what he can’t. Some guys just dig their heels and that becomes economically diabolical. Being a director yourself, you know how much you rely on those guys to get you out of difficult situations.

mins. I think Lightning ja c k was 124 mins and is now about 96 mins. We haven’t lost much, just general tightening, and one little sequence. Comedy is harder than drama and there is a lot more fiddling that goes on, particularly after you see the film with an audience. The first preview was in Phoenix and, because it was the week before Christmas, it was much harder recruiting a broad audi­ ence. It was mainly a white, middle-class audience, and the reaction was very, very good. But the film was slow. I knew it was going to be slow, because it was basically my first cut. We did some tightening and had another preview in Culver City, Los Angeles, on 2 January. The difference was amazing, just having Hispanics and blacks and a multi-racial audience - and, of course, a tighter film. I find the audience-previewing process frightening, but for a comedy it is great. It’s not what people say afterwards, or what they write on the cards, it’s just being able to sit in the middle of the audience and feel the buzz. For me, that is the moment of truth. Your heart is in your mouth when the lights go down, and the first time you hear them laugh is such a feeling of relief. You have always been a relative fan of audience testing.

LEFT: JACK KANE PROVES HIS WORTH IN A SALOON. ABOVE: JACK KANE AND LANA (BEVERLY D'ANGELO). LIGHTNING JACK.

I am sorry that the final cut of Lightning ja c k doesn’t have a few really beautiful crane movements that proved a bit too languid and a bit long. Instead of making an establishing shot 6 seconds, it would take 15 seconds and that’s a little indulgent. Why has the post-production been so hectic? Savoy, which is a new, heavy-weight company like a new T ri­ Star, wanted to preview the film in the U.S. in December. It was difficult because we were doing the post-production in Australia and we had to go back there, come back here and then go back. We weren’t able to lock the film off until mid-January, a week before starting the final dub. It’s been very, very hard, and again it seems to be the way things are moving over there, where everything gets pushed through so very fast. It doesn’t give you time when you’ve finished a cut to remove yourself from it for a week so you can come back and take a fresh look. The first cut of Free Willy was 154 minutes and it ended up 104

Yeah, but I’m not a slave to it. You can become a slave to focus groups and to the cards, particularly in Los Angeles where everyone is a film critic. They have so many of these bloody screenings and the tendency is for people sit down and think, “How can I make this film better?” I’ve never been a slave to the cards. I don’t even read the cards usually, though I glanced at them with Lightning Ja c k . If there is something consistently that people say, then you obviously have to look at it. Maybe the audience didn’t get a particular point, which can be solved with a snip or putting a wild line in somewhere. If an audience doesn’t understand some­ thing, then you haven’t done your job right and you should fix it. That is very important, but that is very different from getting eight thousand people saying “Well, wouldn’t it be better if ...” The point is you have to be bold. You commit to doing a script and you believe in it, and you go out and shoot it. You know straight away whether it’s working or if it’s dying. The Free Willy previews were also awesome. My first was on a Saturday afternoon at a place called Woodland Hills in the Valley, and it was basically myself, the editor, Jenny Lew Tugen and Lauren Shuler-Donner [producers], Dick Donner [executive pro­ ducer], the post-production people, the audience recruiting com­ pany and some general public. It was just extraordinary. There weren’t any credits on the movie, so the lights came straight up, and you could see people were crying. Some actually wanted to give us money to help set up a foundation to save whales. Dick said to me, “Let’s not show this to the studio at Warner Bros. Let’s invite them to another preview next Sunday. W e’ll have another audience, and invite them along with their kids.” So we did it again at Sherman Oaks and 50 Warner executives came with their families. We had made quite a few changes after the first preview and took out about five or six mins. The reaction was amazing; it couldn’t have been better. CINEMA

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•7

Simon Wincer Arnon Milchan [executive producer] was the first to come out and he said, “Simon, I want the sequel on my desk on M onday”, tears rolling down his cheeks. He had some of his German investors, who had visited us on the set during filming. They had dollar signs in their eyes. All the Warner Bros, people were over the moon. It was a great way for them to see it with an audience of five hundred people, with kids and everyone cheering and shouting at the end. The public stayed to fill in their cards, but all the executives rushed out of the theatre, reaching for their dark glasses. It was just terrific.

FREE

WI L L Y

How did you become involved with Free Willy? The script was sent to me by my agent. I liked it, but a couple of weeks later my agent rang back and said, “Ah, they’re looking at another director and have decided to go with a newcomer. But would you still like to meet with the Donners?” As they’d already chosen this other guy, I couldn’t see much point and passed. That was the last I had heard about it until 18 months later, when I was filming an episode of Young Indiana Jo n es in St Petersburg. I got this message from my agent saying the Donners weren’t happy with the director and wanted to replace him. I finished that episode and, on my way back home to Australia, dropped into Los Angeles. I met with the producers, Jennie Lew Tugen and Lauren Shuler-Donner, who explained that everyone at Warner Bros, had looked on Free Willy as a little film. But it was quite a big film - and a logistical nightmare. The director had made a short film which had done well at Sundance, but he was just out of his depth. There comes the day in every director’s life where you actually have to say, “Yes, I like that person”, “Yes, that’s how I want the set to look” and so on. They actually called him “see more”, because he wanted to see more and more. The script was floundering and there was only six weeks to shooting. All they had was a whale in training in a tank in Mexico City. They had no locations, no cast and Warners was ready to pull the plug. So they said, “W e’d like to offer you the film. ” I was a bit tired and I wanted to go home to Australia, as I hadn’t seen my kids in quite a while. In the end, I actually said, “N o.” Then Richard Donner [executive producer], whom I hadn’t met and who was building a house up on the Pacific Northwest, got on the phone. He was incredibly persuasive, and he said, “I’m going to fly down. Just come and talk to m e.” Dick is this larger-than-life character, like the movies he makes. Movies tend to reflect the personalities of the makers, and Dick’s is certainly larger-than-life, a wonderful bear of a man. He came down and managed to convince me to do the movie. He never actually explained why he wasn’t going to do it himself, but he was tied up in the post-production of L eth al W eapon 3, which had one of those nightmare post-production schedules, a bit like Lightning Ja c k 's . They were literally finishing mixing on the Friday and opening in theatres a week later. The Donners then agreed to let me come back to Australia for a week to sort out some personal stuff. This meant I only had four weeks pre-production on the movie. What we did in the first week was literally find the cast. They had been searching for a kid, and narrowed it down to thirty candidates. I just looked at the videotapes and said “Well, that’s that one [Jason James Richter]. Can I meet him?” I did and then didn’t bother meeting any of the others. Jason was so good, so obviously talented, that he was self-selective. 8 . CINEMA

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You needed someone with the face of a cherub, but with a real devilish streak; someone very natural who could handle himself. Jason just stood out, even though all the ones who missed were good little actors. The rest of the cast then came together pretty quickly and I did a couple of passes on the script with a guy called Tom Benedek, who doesn’t get a credit on the film, sadly. He wrote Cocoon [Ron Howard, 1985]. The guy who actually dreamed up the project was Keith A. Walker, who was an actor in T he G oon ies [Richard Donner, 1985]. The idea came while they were filming in the Northwest Pacific, and he suggested it to Dick, who said he really liked the idea. It was then developed through Donner’s company. Corey Blechman, who is quite a good writer, then did a draft and made the quantum leap. T hat’s the draft I first read. After that, Tom Benedek did a draft, which was pretty loyal to Blechman’s. Tom was the only writer I ever worked with, and we fought very hard to get him a credit, but the W riter’s Guild wouldn’t budge. That’s the way things are. You say Jason James Richter selected himself, yet the first director had trouble making a selection. Isn’t that a case of how, as you become a more experienced director, you learn to trust your instincts more? Oh, yes. But any smart guy should have seen straight away that Jason was the one. I guess this young director was so apprehen­ sive about putting his foot wrong that he just kind of backed himself into a corner. RAE (LORI PETTY) AND JESSE (JASON JAMES RICHTER) FEED WILLY. SIMON WINCER'S FREE WILLY.

But yes, it is experience. I have worked a lot with kids. Both T he G irl W ho Spelt F reed om [tele-feature, 1986] and D .A .R .Y .L. [1985] had leading kids, and I had also done a Young Indiana Jo n es episode in Africa with a very young kid. I guess being a father helped a bit, as well. The other director didn’t have any kids, and, unless you’ve been a parent, I think it’s hard to manipulate and manoeuvre a kid when directing, to understand that they do get tired, and so on.

then swim him to the other side, and have his tail just disappear out of shot, before he bashed into the other side. The rest of the locations were more straightforward. It was just a matter of getting the ambience of this ocean-side commu­ nity. We finally chose this little place called Astoria, which had been used for K indergarten Cop and T he G oon ies. It’s a tiny place but another big movie was shooting there at exactly the same time, N inja Turtles 3.

What are the advantages and disadvantages of coming quite suddenly onto a picture?

Did you use computers for the special effects?

The disadvantage was that I inherited the entire crew. But because the original director was a first-timer, they had chosen a very experienced crew, all of whom were terrific. I didn’t have too many problems, especially as I had the best first assistant in the country, Jimmy Van Wyck. He is also the co-producer. When I first walked in the office, I felt like a visiting dignitary meeting a line of people. Fortunately the crew was a pretty organized group. M ost had all come off L eth al W eapon 3 [Richard Donner, 1992] and were really good. I did choose, however, the editor, Nicholas Brown, the com­ poser, Basil Poledouris, and all the post-production people. In Australia, directors are sometimes so involved in getting a film off the ground that they arrive on set exhausted. That wouldn’t have been a problem here. No, but that’s the difference between making a film in Australia and making a film over there. The support structure is so different. All you have to worry about is directing. You don’t have to drive a car, because they don’t won’t you to worry about traffic j ams or the risk of having an accident. Somebody picks you up and you can actually work in the car on the way to location. Little things like that lighten the load. The film was obviously difficult logistically. How much had been solved before you got there? Virtually nothing was in place. I had to solve it all. The problem was that they had a whale in a tank in Mexico City, but the setting of the film was in the Pacific Northwest. So the production designer, Chuck Rosen, had to make that tank look like it belonged in the Northwest. The idea was that we would matte in the ocean in the background. But, on top of that, we needed an exterior of the tank and the amusement park that it was set in. We also needed the observa­ tion room underneath. For a while, everything seemed achievable. We found an amusement park up in Portland, Oregon, that was on the Columbia River. That was terrific for the exterior and the ride up to the park. We also found the ocean in Oregon at Canon Beach, which is, ironically, where they had filmed T he G oon ies. But the underground observation room proved the biggest problem. I was shown a swimming pool in East Los Angeles, which had a glass window that looked into the swimming pool. But it was a really small working area. So I asked, “Has anybody thought about investigating tanks?” “No, we haven’t ”, they said, but then somebody said, “There’s one across the road at the Warner Bros, ranch.” So we jumped in the car and drove there. It was a half-circle tank, which was almost -the same shape as the pool in M exico City. I suggested we cut some glass windows in the side, build the set around the curve and match it to the swimming pool. In five minutes we had literally solved the problem. The only difficulty was that the tank wasn’t that big, and the animaltronic whale was 22 feet long. Fortunately, there was just enough room to have its nose out of shot in one glass window and

Yes. We used a company called Video Image. Every time you see Willy in the ocean he had to have the curved dorsal fin added. The cartilage on whales in captivity seems to go weak and their dorsal fin hangs over. It’s really pathetic, because that’s the first thing you notice about a whale in captivity. One complicated shot, just after the whale is free, is where Willy leaps out of the water. They had to replace the shot we had and turn it into Willy. It’s not only moving, but it’s taking on different shapes, and has water falling off it. As for the leap over the wall, that starts as a special effect with the whale coming out of the water to about this high [1 metre] and then a computer-generated image takes over. There are five or six matte shots of the ocean behind the tank, and also of the whales at night when Jesse climbs up the lighthouse and sees them playing in the ocean. In the very final shot of the movie there are three whales swimming through the ocean: a father whale, the mother whale and a smaller whale with a bent dorsal. The bent dorsal was put on. All this was pretty complex and very expensive, but it is this computer technology that makes movies like Ju rassic Park pos­ sible. Are you still editing on video? Not the last few films, because Nick Brown, whom I have been working with on Free Willy and Lightning J a c k , likes to cut the old-fashioned way on film. But Nick mumbled to me the other day, “I’m going to have a look at the Lightworks”, and I said, “I beg your pardon!” He didn’t want to admit it, because I’ve been nagging him about video editing for years. Lonesome Dove was in fact one of the earliest productions to use video editing. Yes, though it was pretty primitive compared to what we use now. They don’t even use laser discs any more, it’s just computer discs and stuff. I think it’s all fantastic and I hear Fred Schepisi is now a convert. You mentioned the whale family. One of the most striking aspects of Free Willy is that, like Mrs Doubtfire [Chris Columbus, 1993] and others, it is redefining for Americans the meaning of family. You show alternatives to the stereotypical 1950s nuclear family. One thing I liked about Mrs D ou btfire is that it doesn’t cop out at the end. In an interview I saw, Christopher Columbus, who was also the writer, said that he refused to bow to the pressure to give it a ‘happier’ ending. The reason the film works is because people relate to the fact that the couple doesn’t get back together again. For me, the theme of Free Willy is family, and Jesse’s struggle to come to terms with foster parents, and not having a mother or a father. There’s also an interesting parallel story with the whale, in that Willy is plucked away from his family. The thing to remem­ ber about whales is that their whole life is family; they never leave. When you see these pods of whales, and there are sixty or seventy in a pod, it’s quite breathtaking. CINEMA

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Simon Wincer In a way, films now reflect reality a lot more than they do the L eav e It To B eaver-land, as I call it, of the 1950s and ’60s. Jesse never calls Glen [Michael Madsen], his foster father, “dad”. You don’t sentimentalize their partial bonding. One of the reasons I cast Michael Madsen is that he has a really blue-collar quality that very few actors have. I wanted Glen to be an older version of Jesse. You can see that Glen was a real larrikin when he was a kid. There is a scene where Glen comes out and wants to throw baseball with Jesse. They are like a couple of dogs circling each other, a couple of old mongrels who don’t trust one another. Both are streetwise and uncomfortable with each other. Glen is trying to make an effort to get through to this kid, and I think it would have been pretty yucky if Jesse had called him “dad”. The most powerful dramatic moment in the film is actually when Glen decides to help Jesse on the forest road at night. It’s interesting, because that is one of the few times that I had to reshoot Jason’s close-up. The first night we did it, he was just a little bit off and he couldn’t get the magic. So we redid Jason the next night, and he was so much better. It had to be totally believable when Glen throws his arms around Jesse and he looks up. Yes, it is a very powerful moment. Glen gives in to the kid and backs him with tears. What audience did you pitch the film at? There isn’t the tokenism towards adults one finds in many children’s films. I guess the conscious thing was to make it for families. I never think of kids films as kids films so much as family films, and I don’t think I would ever get involved in anything that’s too juvenile. Also, there was a conscious effort made not to Disney-ize the film. I’m not saying that in a derogatory way, just to highlight that we didn’t want to over-sentimentalize it. Jim Schembri, who always writes fairly interesting interviews for The Age, said, “Oh mate, I loved the film until the whale shook its head.” It’s interesting what he said because that used to be an arch moment for me, too. Jesse offers it a fish and the whale shakes its head. That is not totally believable, but the editor convinced me we should try it with an audience. And the audience loved it so much we left it in the movie. Why take out something the people like? I suppose these are the things we put in for kids, if you like. Free Willy has ended up your biggest film. By a long way. It had an American theatrical gross of US$78 million and it has sold 8.1 million videos there, which makes it one of the top videos of all time. It’s been incredibly successful, and it’s now opening up in all the foreign markets, and doing great business here.

YOUNG

I NDI ANA JONES

You have also recently done episodes for The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles. I did one 2-hour episode in Africa, and another in Czechoslovakia. It was about the battle of the Somme and was All Q uiet On the Western Front and The G reat E scape rolled into one. I also did a Russian one-hour, which was filmed in St Petersburg and Prague, and another in Turkey, which is The Lighthorsem en revisited. They were great fun to do, and it was really good working with George Lucas. I got to know him pretty well because he sat in on 10 • C I N E M A

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all the cutting sessions. I learnt a lot. George is very script-orientated, which surprised me. Every­ one thinks of him as this technocrat, but he is totally story- and script-orientated. Everything radiates from there. What George does have is this incredible knowledge. When he looks at a cut of something, he can break a scene down to the bones. And he's never averse to going out and reshooting something because it’s not clear. On Young Indiana Jon es, we were always going out to do pick-up shots: “You need a shot of this” or “You need a shot of that.” And 99 per cent of the time he was absolutely right. It was so frustrating never being able to second guess him. I also had the great experience of working with Ben Burtt, who was George’s chief sound person. Ben designed the sound for Star Wars, Raiders o f the L o st Ark and all those movies, and was also one of the mixers. Ben cut a couple of my episodes and he would spend hours before we’d shoot something cutting battle scenes together to give me ideas. He even directed some second-unit stuff for me in Africa. He was very creative. George and Ben are both such nice people and totally removed from the Hollywood system. George says he built Skywalker Ranch because, when he started out as a filmmaker, he learnt there are three things you need: good research, because out of good research comes good scripts; good post-production facili­ ties; and good food. Skywalker has all of these. It has the most fantastic state-of-the-art post-production facilities in terms of foley stages, dubbing theatres, a big music recording stage and beautiful theatres. It is all so tastefully done and is in a beautiful setting, up near the Napa Valley. There are very comfortable rooms to work in, because, as you know, everyone in this business works long hours. They also supply good food and have a just unbelievable research library. George bought the Paramount research library, which was put up for sale because no one knew what to do with it. They have photographs dating back to the beginning of Paramount. For example, if you need to know what a Parisian restaurant in 1932 looks like, you just look it up and there it is. You can also stay up there for an entire mix, as happened with Ju rassic Park. They just moved in. Apparently Lucas is getting back into production. Yes. He’s just done R adiolan d M urders, which is a script he wrote years ago. He is also gearing up for three new Star Wars movies, which will be made back to back. They are doing them that way for cost-saving reasons. There is also a new Indiana Jones movie in the works, with Steven Spielberg. What are your future plans? I’m going to do a film for Disney called O peration D u m bo D rop, which is a true story that happened in Vietnam about a ragtag group of soldiers who had to replace a village elephant that had been inadvertently killed because of something they’d done. They trek this thing across Vietnam by stealing planes and boats and aeroplanes and so forth, and eventually drop the elephant by parachute out of the sky into this village. It’s a wonderful, heart-warming adventure story, and it’s good to see something positive come out of the war. It’s a lot of fun and terrific action sequences in it. Are you filming it in Vietnam? No, in Thailand. It doesn’t start shooting until mid-October because of the monsoons. I’m developing a couple of Australian films as well. Hopefully, after D u m bo D rop they will see the light of day. I can’t wait to do something back here. #

; . r rV - •,/

In

c e l e b r a t io n o f N e w v is io n

C in e m a P a p e r s 2 0 t h A n n iv e r s a r y F il m s is p r o u d t o p r e s e n t

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The industry comments on the past ten years and the future Now and the next ten years

Th e cu ltu re of disdain so lo n g

Sue Milliken

em bedded in the b u re a u c ra c y ’s attitud e to

P R O D U C E R A N D C H A I R OF T H E A U S T R A L I A N

FILM C O M M I S S I O N

The industry is going through one of its most stable periods in a long time - possibly since it could be dignified by the word “industry”. The system of delivering government assistance is working well: commercial investment through the Australian Film Fi­ nance Corporation (FFC), development and culture through the Australian Film Commission (AFC), training through the Aus­ tralian Film Television & Radio School (AFTRS); each organiza­ tion’s responsibility is different but complementary. Alternative doors and regional development are provided by the state bodies, most of which have undergone major overhauls since the 1980s. The culture of disdain so long embedded in the bureaucracy’s attitude to filmmakers is, happily, becoming a thing of the past. The staff of the government agencies these days pretty much see themselves as part of the team, as partners with the filmmakers in the process. Funding levels, while somewhat austere compared with ten years ago, are probably about as much as we have a right to expect at this time. This does not mean that more money could not be spent well. The industry continues to fulfil its side of the bargain to the Australian people, who underpin our existence with their taxes. Year by year, films emerge which we and our fellow Australians can be proud of, and which continue to keep our culture and our art in front of world audiences. It could be said there are not enough of them; we must try to achieve more films of high quality in the next few years. We have not had to sell our Australianness to do business with international buyers - although it is still extremely difficult, if not impossible, to attract substantial commercial pre-finance to an Australian film with no overt box-office elements. Television drama, 12 • C I N E M A

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film m a k e rs is, h a p p ily, b e c o m in g a th in g of the past. Th e staff of the g o v e rn m e n t agencies these days p re tty m u ch see th e m se lve s as part of the te a m , as p a rtn e rs w ith the film m a k e rs in the process,

sue milliken

with the exception of children’s programmes, continues to languish. Multi-culturalism has entered our storytelling. No longer are we presenting only the Anglo-Saxon view of Australian life. The first small steps have been taken to give Aboriginal Australians the opportunities in film and television which white Australians have enjoyed for the past twenty years. Two problems which will weaken our ability to produce more successes are the need for more well-rounded producers with both creative and management skills, and the squeezing of budgets in the $3 to $4 million range. Producers with the entrepreneurial talent to get a picture fin­ anced do not always have the appropriate skills to get the best out of the elements during production. In these cases, “line” produc­ ers are usually employed, who have no authority to function creatively, although many of them have the ability to do so. The picture frequently falls between the two. A high priority for the future is to encourage and empower more good producers. Pictures in the “medium” budget range often flounder for lack of funds which would allow for the extra polish which would push them out of the ordinary and into the special. Too many scripts are still going into production before they are ready. The industry has come a long way. We have much to be proud of. But we can never take our feet off the pedals. If anything, we have to push harder than we have ever done before.

Future of Australian film over the next decade

and talents needed to be a m e d iu m -s ize but im p o rta n t p la ye r in the w o rld m a rk e t o v e r the

John M orris CHIEF EXECUTIVE,

Th e A u s tra lia n film in d u s try has all th e sk ills

AUSTRALIAN

FILM FI NANCE

CORPORATION

next decade. W h a t it needs to m a in ta in th a t position is a consistent, sensitive and

The Australian film industry has developed and matured sub­ stantially over the past four years, and I’m confident that this progress will continue, providing stable and consistent funding is available from 1996 onwards. Much is said about the importance of maintaining “critical mass” within the industry. This refers to upholding a basic level of production to ensure a healthy infrastructure and talent base. I don’t know what that level is, but I’m concerned that the FFC’s 1995/96 appropriation of $50 million is about as low as it can get. The FFC committed $68.12 million in 1992/93 to support $112.57 million worth of production. This represented 14 fea­ tures, 14 television productions, and 38 documentaries. It is reasonable to expect that this volume will drop accordingly with reduced appropriation. Although this will be offset to some extent by a steady level of earnings to the FFC, private sector investment in FFC-backed projects is falling below our original target of 40% , which creates an additional drain on our available resources. Overall, 34 films were made in 1991/92,24 last financial year, according to the AFC’s annual production report. As those volumes drops, it’s feasible that perhaps as low as 15 films including AFC projects and private endeavours - will be made each year in Australia by the latter half of the decade. That’s a worrying scenario. It’s heartening therefore to know that the government is also concerned about a decline. Former Arts Minister Bob M cMullan announced the planned 1995/96 review of the FFC will be brought forward to 1994/95 to give sufficient time to determine appropriate levels of support. And, importantly, culture has become an increasingly impor­ tant item on the political agenda of both sides of government. I can only hope that the National Cultural Policy, a 10-year blueprint for a cultural strategy currently being put together, will reflect strongly what Canberra learnt in this year’s elections: that Australians care deeply about the development of their culture and how it is presented. The Australian film industry is working from a more perform­ ance-based platform that is delivering better films, enhancing our business acumen, and honing our technical skills. An interna­ tionally-recognized Australian sales-agency base has evolved while our unprecedented presence at Cannes last year showed the world’s film industry the quality and range of films Australia is now making. This momentum must be maintained, otherwise we jeopardize these achievements, and the wealth of experience gained since the 1970s. At the same time, we must continue to face the challenge of presenting our stories in a way that is as accessible to foreign

co m m itte d fu n d in g base, john morris

audiences as they are to Australian audiences. Looking ahead, I can see the American concept of test screen­ ings becoming widespread. More Australians are seeing more Australian films than ever before, and test screenings - by identifying a film’s strengths, weaknesses and likely audience before release - could help attract even bigger audiences. And, of course, in coming years the industry faces the chal­ lenge of new media. We will need to be flexible and entrepre­ neurial to capitalize on the opportunities offered by the introduction of Pay TV and other niche programming outlets. Flowever, the FFC believes standards of quality must be set and maintained in this new programming environment. The Australian film industry has all the skills and talents needed to be a medium-size but important player in the world market over the next decade. What it needs to maintain that position is a consistent, sensitive and committed funding base. • • • • •

The education of young Stuart, or, just another bildungs roman Stuart Cunningham ASSOCIATE

PROFESSOR

OF M E D I A

U N I V E R S I T Y OF T E C H N O L O G Y , AUSTRALIAN

STUDIES,

QUEENSLAND

AND A C O M M I S S I O N E R

OF T H E

FILM C O M M I S S I O N

I am one of those fortunate enough to have grown up with the contemporary Australian film and television industry - too young to experience the full weight of the cultural cringe (al­ though it was certainly in evidence in some of the pathetic Anglophilic university dons whom I came across); too old to either take it for granted or experience it as simply a (muted?) part of the cultural furniture. Still at school when all the backroom action was taking place to kick start the industry, I was blithely unaware of what it had taken to get Australian accents and stories up on the big screen again. But, soon after, watching Between Wars (Michael Thornhill, 1974) at about the same time as films that took a rather serious adolescent’s roof off like Sw eet M ovie (Dusan Makavejev, 1974), I could appreciate that this country also had a tradition of sexual and intellectual rupture. I then could stumblingly learn the CINEMA

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9 7 / 9 8 • 13

The industry comments

etiquette of savouring art cinema at what seemed like proper art houses per courtesy of Picnic at H anging R ock (Peter Weir, 1975) or “The Priest” episode of L ib id o (Fred Schepisi, 1973) as much as through Bergman, Antonioni or Fellini. I took the advice of an expatriate American Anglophile that one should subscribe to a whole season of American Film Theatre. But I learnt, soon enough, after a three-and-a-half-hour Eugene O ’Neill number which took place on one set, that the calling card of serious cinema didn’t require ponderous theatrical adaptations of leaden existentialists. I didn’t go back. But there was something even then out of kilter about the pan pipes and Peter Pan figures of Peter Weir in the same year as the dismissal and the sense of political impotence caught so viscerally in Exits (Paul Davies, short, 1980). Visiting the sub-cultural otherland of the 1970s through D alm as (Bert Deling, 1973) and Pure S... (Deling, 1975) was to travel a long way from the fateful gundown at Yarralumla gulch - but maybe, as Exits suggests, not such a long way. I read Phillip Adams’ columns and books of republished essays, encountering the agnostic and the agonistic voice of Australian secularism - Manning Clark’s third voice in the country’s history - well before the filmic cultural nationalism. In an experience like that of my first realization that the Paul Schrader of T ranscendental Style in Film was the same Paul Schrader of T axi D river (Martin Scorsese, 1976), I began to see that they were of one piece. Models for the situated intellectual began to take shape. I got my first ‘real’ job tutoring at Griffith University when it first opened and was still a mess of Nissen huts and mud between a few award-winning buildings and began to be exposed to the cutting-edge fashions of new cinema theory and, at the same time, the shards of the Australian film tradition. It was the Tower of Babel, the languages were so discordant - a powerful stimu­ lant. When first shown Sons o f M atthew (Charles Chauvel, 1949), a light went on. This beefcake movie (I’ve always thought of it as the Australian version of the great John Ford’s H ow Green Was My Valley, 1941) made me realize that the strongest dynamics of Flollywood had been tapped, and now continued to be tapped, here. I tried to follow the leads. With the demise of the National Film Theatre, and the concentration of film societies in Sydney, Melbourne and Canberra, educational institutions in the outlying states played a particular role in laying a platform for an encounter with the Australian cinema. There came to be so much pleasure in screening it to another generation. Seeing N ew sfron t (Phillip Noyce, 1978) after a few years living in the States and wanting to identify strongly with the implacable gusto of its citizens, I didn’t think I would have cried so much with homesickness for the gum trees and the sense of

I c o u ld n ’t im agin e m y life - co u ld n ’t b rin g an im age of it up - w ith o u t the cu ltu ra l and intellectual dialogue th a t the film and tele visio n in d u s try has engaged m e in o ve r the past tw e n ty ye a rs, 14 • C I N E M A

stu a r t c u n n in g h a m

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97/98

open space and the pioneering spirit and the situated criticism of U.S. imperalism, while the snow piled up in the deep dark and the temperaturte dipped below minus thirty outside the flea pit in Madison, Wisconsin. The film historians there knew about The Story o f the Kelly G ang (Charles Tait, 1906) as much as I did. I had the fullest Hollywood tie-in/merchandising experience with my five-year-old and his love affaire with Jo Kennedy in Star Struck (Gillian Armstrong, 1982). I just had to buy all the paraphernalia - the record, the posters for his room - and go see it four times. It wasn’t a problem - 1think I might have been going through a similar experience. I learnt the ‘positive unoriginality’ lesson about Australian culture through it. And then the great cycle of mini-series. You don’t get out as much when you have kids, do you? Television took the place of movies in rendering the roots of Australian experience at just the right time for me. I watched the first one, Against the W ind, when it screened in syndication in the U.S. I really didn’t know what to make of it until years later, when I was able, in the context of debates back home, to think through how it had been Australia’s R o o ts, and it had been that with considerably greater historical veracity than its American forebear. I couldn’t imagine my life - couldn’t bring an image of it up without the cultural and intellectual dialogue that the film and television industry has engaged me in over the past twenty years. To all who have laboured in the sweet vineyards, a thank you. • • • • •

Ghosts ... of a national cinema Adrian Martin FILM CRITIC,

CO-WINNER

OF T H E

1 993

BYRON

KENNEDY

AWARD

Australian cinema is elusive, which is not an altogether pleasant thing. It seems very difficult, and maybe even impossible, for an Australian critic to get any real perspective on this national cinema as it takes shape from one new film to the next. Reactions are almost always polarized: to Helen Garner, writing in The In depen den t M onthly, Strictly B allroom (Baz Luhrmann, 1992) is a profound piece of popular entertainment; to John Flaus, in Film new s (February 1993), it is “trifle served as main course [...] brazenly derivative, redundant and sentimental”. One way or another, it is as if we are all too invested in our local product, all looking up too closely to really see anything clearly, all pinning too many unreasonable hopes (or projecting too many unreason­ able paranoias) onto what we behold. From where I stand in the film culture scene, the recent history of Australian cinema can be written as a series of responses for and against the notion of screen realism. There is hardly a brash, young filmmaker making his or her feature debut in Cinem a Papers who does not wipe off virtually every Australian film coming before as ‘realist’. This iconoclastic campaign has had decidedly mixed effects. On the one hand, it has led to the production of lyrical essay films like B reathing Under W ater (Susan Murphy Dermody, 1992) and independent experiments like My L ife W ithout Steve (Gillian Leahy, 1986). On the other hand, it has pushed film students into a vain search for imaginary

.. . b e lo w t h e s u rf a c e o f m a in s t r e a m f i lm c u lt u r e , t h e r e w i l l f o r e v e r l u r k o u r o n e u n q u e s t io n a b ly g r e a t a c h ie v e m e n t in th e in t e r n a t io n a l c o n t e x t : th e g lo r io u s , 3 0 - y e a r h is t o r y o f th e A u s t r a lia n a v a n t g a r d e ... Adrian martin

bogeys like the ‘AFC genre’ - a reportedly vapid form of national cinema they will find in neither Picnic at H anging R o ck , Peter K en n a ’s T he U m brella W om an (Ken Cameron, 1987), nor Sumner L o c k e E llio tt’s C areful H e M ight H ear You (Carl Schultz, 1983). Worse still, an anti-realist bias blinds many to the actual traditions - somewhere between varieties of naturalism and the tall tale - which already exist in Australian cinema, especially in our most innovative documentaries, like Kelvin an d his Friends (Brian McKenzie, 1987) or Jou rn ey to the E nd o f N ight (Peter Tammer, 1981), but also in our often charmingly-oddball ver­ sions o f ‘exploitation’ genres, from Stone (Sandy Harbutt, 1974) and H ostage: T he Christine M aresch Story (Frank Shields, 1983) to Sons o f Steel (Gary Keady, 1989) and T he M arsupials: The H ow ling I II (Philippe M ora, 1987) As in Britain or Canada, ours may not ultimately be a ‘cinema cinema’ (Dr George Miller excepted), but more of a televisual cinema - an idea cued strongly by the fondly elaborate television pastiches that litter Australian films from BM X Bandits (Brian Trenchard-Smith, 1983) and N irvana Street M urder (Aleksi Vellis, 1991) to B eD evil (Tracey M offatt, 1993) and B ody M elt (Philip Brophy, 1994). A televisual film (which is not the same as a telemovie) is geared to a different intensity, a different mesh of style, content and ‘social text’ than either a pumped-up Holly­ wood spectacle or a lush, visionary, European art film - so perhaps we should stop always faulting local cinema in compari­ son with either of these models, and look at what it is that we actually (sometimes) do well. Australian cinema is never going all in the one direction thank god. There will always be, in the feature realm, a strange and fascinating mix of residual and emerging values - the crazy, male fantasy of M ap o f the H um an H eart (Vincent Ward, 1993) against the progressive, female fantasy of T he Piano (Jane Campion, 1993), for instance. And below the surface of main­ stream film culture, there will forever lurk our one unquestion­ ably great achievement in the international context: the glorious, 30-year history of the Australian avant garde from the Cantrills and Paul Winkler through to Arf Arf and Melanie El Mir. After the kerfuffle in 1993 about the feature nominations for AFI Awards, however, one trend bearing upon the ghost of our national cinema seems particularly clear: Where do we draw the borders around ‘Australia’ - and do we even need to? This is not only a question of the inevitable, unstoppable increase in inter­ national co-production. It is a question of self-defined cultural identity, and it impacts on the films we make. Look at S p o tsw o od (Mark Joffe, 1992) or T he N ostradam u s K id (Bob Ellis, 1993),

G hosts ... o f the Civil D ead (John Hillcoat, 1989) or R om p er S tom per (Geoffrey Wright, 1992): whether in nostalgic elegy or violent self-immolation, the clear stake of these films is a onceupon-a-time, racially self-enclosed, mainly Anglo, mainly male Australia. Faced with the perplexity of new kinds of films proposing new, hybrid identities, a recent, cagey response on the part of some mainstream reviewers is symptomatic: they choose to celebrate B lackfellas (James Ricketson, 1993) - a film about ‘the Aboriginal problem’ directed by a white man - as a ‘true’ Australian film, over either T he Piano or BeD evil. This latest ruse of conservative ideology reminds me irresistibly of one of my all­ time favourite moments in Australian film: when the neo-Nazi Hando (Russell Crowe) in R om p er Stom per takes time out from dodging the death-blows delivered by Australian-Vietnamese to philosophize - and compares his historical plight as a member of a vanishing species to that of “the fucking A bo”.

More opportunities for the commercial filmmaker Lyndon Sayer-Jones FILM L AWYER,

LYNDON

SAYER-JONES

&

ASSOCIATES,

SYDNEY

In 1994, there are several major trends evident in the Australian film and television industry which hold out great promise for increased opportunities. First, it is clear Australian films are being well received with titles as diverse as The Piano, A ntarctica (documentary, 1993), Sacred Sex (Cynthia Connop, documentary, 1992) and Strictly B allroom enjoying critical and commercial success. There is no reason to believe that trend will not continue given that produc­ tion levels should remain at present levels with the government support that we can all reasonably expect. Second, the parochialism that has been a feature of the world’s largest entertainment market, namely North America, is being reduced’at a rapid rate. Most notably this autumn 1994 in the U.S., T he G ord on E lliott Show is to be launched by the giant CBS and Fox networks. The Australian journalist, Gordon Elliott, is to host a prime afternoon talk show scheduled head-to-head against the current talk show leaders Oprah Winfrey and Phil Donahue. How things have changed! Third, technology is now genuinely opening the horizons of the communications and entertainment industries in a way that

N o bo dy k n o w s w h a t is ahead, but m y guess is th a t the o p p o rtu n itie s fo r the A u s tra lia n a rtis tic c o m m u n ity w ill be g re a te r than th e y e ve r have been, p ro v id in g th a t th e y are p re p a re d to create th e ir a rt in a w a y th a t has co m m e rc ia l appeal,

lyndon sayer-jones

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The industry comments

E v e ry n e w decade seem s to u sh e r in n e w

Children’s television

th re a ts fo r c h ild re n ’s te le visio n . Despite the

D r Patricia Edgar

successes o v e r the past decade, its fu tu re is fa r fro m secure,

dr

Patricia edgar

will profoundly affect everyone. These new technologies of multimedia, satellite transmissions and new delivery systems present enormous challenges to the Australian legal system of copyright - certainly many writers and filmmakers will be distressed that they have unwittingly given away rights that will be exploited in ways they had not even contemplated. To my mind, however, these changes will serve the Australian film industry well — at least in financial and skill-sharing terms because these technologies, coupled with our lower cost structure and world-class expertise, should cause considerably more for­ eign productions to take place in this country. I will leave the cultural debate on Australia’s being rendered Hollywood’s backlot to others, but feel compelled to say there is a hell of a lot we can learn from the Americans, especially in the area of deciding what films will have a market and the marketing process itself. Last, there will be an ever-increasing emphasis on commercial­ ism to justify the expenditure of capital which is devoured in enormous quantities by any film industry. That commercialism is not just coming from the demands of the studios and distributors but now also from within government film bodies such as the Australian Film Finance Corporation. While some would see this as a healthy move that will inevitably give our film industry a greater chance to stand on its own feet, others will take the view that it will only diminish the likelihood that we will produce the great films for which we are famous. Because this country has such a small domestic market, a film that receives an excellent domestic response will often return a fraction of its actual production cost. The same situation occurring in the U.S. would push such a film into significant profit. No matter how commercial we may aim our films to be, they will always essentially have the enormous disad­ vantage of coming from an exceptionally small domestic market. For that reason, it will be very difficult for this country, at least in the foreseeable future, to have an indigenous film industry which would be genuinely self-supporting. I am confident, however, that Australian governments will continue to provide significant support for our industry, if only because matching our film skills are our superb lobbying skills to extract political support. From a lawyer’s point of view, there will never be more work than in the near future. Certainly lawyers are now taking on the role of quasi-executive producers in co-ordinating the complex financing that is an ever more a critical aspect of film production. Nobody knows what is ahead, but my guess is that the opportunities for the Australian artistic community will be greater than they ever have been, providing that they are pre­ pared to create their art in a way that has commercial appeal. There is ample room for niche marketing, but a market there has to be.

DIRECTOR,

AUSTRALIAN

CHILDREN’S TELEVISION

FOUNDATION

Ten years ago I concluded that “Although the groundwork has been laid in the past 10 years for an Australian children’s television industry, the next 10 years will tell if it is going to succeed.” It is very satisfying therefore to be able to look back over a decade of remarkable achievement and success in chil­ dren’s television in Australia during one of the most turbulent periods in Australian broadcasting history. This success has been due to government policies to improve both the level and quality of Australian children’s programming on Australian networks, by a unique system of government regulation, subsidy of production by direct investment in chil­ dren’s productions and support for the Australian Children’s Television Foundation (ACTF). Last year, the ACTF celebrated its tenth anniversary. Estab­ lished as a non-profit organization and funded jointly by the Commonwealth and State and Territory Governments, the ACTF’s role is to encourage rhe development, production and transmis­ sion of quality children’s programmes. The ACTF has led the way in producing innovative children’s films, demonstrating what can be achieved if sufficient resources and development care are allocated to children’s productions. The ACTF’s series have been screened in more than 90 countries around the world, developing for Australia an international reputation for producing quality children’s productions. A highlight of the decade was winning an International Emmy for Captain Jo h n n o in 1988 (with further Emmy nominations for B oy Soldiers in 1991 and R ound the Twist II in 1993), although the ACTF has won more than 40 other national and international awards for its programmes. As well as screening on the ABC and commercial networks, the ACTF’s programmes are used extensively in Australian schools. The growth of the video market over the past decade has facilitated greater access to the ACTF’s programmes. The ACTF pioneered the introduction of video-study packages (containing a video, teachers’ notes and a tie-in novel). Eight years after the Winners series was produced, the series is still a part of the school curriculum in many schools. The videos still sell steadily and the novels remain in print, with a new generation of children seeing the series for the first time. The ACTF has fostered greater links between television and education by producing curriculum ma­ terials alongside its programmes, particularly the Lift O ff series, which is a first for any children’s television series, and which has been endorsed by the Directors-General of Curriculum as part of the school curriculum. In 1978, the Australian Broadcasting Tribunal (ABT) intro­ duced a number of regulatory measures for commercial broad­ casters, which led to the standards for children’s television in 1 984. The ABT recognized that the drama format is an essential ingredient in children’s television so that children may identify with Australian themes in drama programmes made especially for them, and so it introduced the requirement that from 1984 onwards each commercial broadcaster must screen a minimum quota of eight hours per year of first release Australian children’s CINEMA

PAPERS

9 7 / 9 8 • 17

The industry comments

drama. The networks never exceeded the minimum quota. Sub­ sequently, the quota was increased to 12 hours per year in 1990 and 16 hours per year from 1991 onwards. Over 50 hours of quality children’s drama programmes are now produced in Australia each year. The increased demand for quality children’s programming resulting from the introduction of the Children’s Drama quota and the support of the ABC for quality children’s product attracted independent producers into the children’s area, backed by the supportive funding policies of government film agencies, particularly the FFC. Since establishing in 1988, the FFC has invested in more than 30 children’s programmes, investing approximately 60% of each budget. As a result of its policy of requiring demonstrated local and international market interest, FFC-funded children’s series have been viewed widely around the world. And recently, the Keating Government has confirmed its continuing support for children’s television in its Distinctly Australian arts policy. Despite the increase in production for children, the future of quality children’s production has been under threat constantly. The financial woes of the commercial networks in the late 1980s resulted in the networks offering prices as low as 15 % of the cost of a programme. Despite a subsequent return to profitability, the networks all pay the same price of S45,000 per half hour for children’s drama. The ABC does not follow this approach. In 1992, the ABT was replaced by the Australian Broadcasting Authority (ABA) amidst a policy push for deregulation. The children’s and Australian contents standards survived and were transferred across to the new regime. However, the ABT’s advisorybody, the Children’s Programme Committee (CPC), became a scapegoat in a battle between the networks and the ABT ostensibly about the classification of Fat Cat, but essentially over the bigger battle for deregulation. The networks had a victory with the abolition of the CPC, which hitherto had maintained the quality requirements of the standards, always a potentially controversial process. Since the abolition of the CPC, programmes which would not have previously passed the test have been classified “ C Drama ” by the ABA, including an animation series based on European fairytales such as Thum berlina, Sinbad and Puss in B oots, despite their obvious lack of cultural relevance to Australian children, and compilations of films produced for other purposes. The ABA’s present approach undermines the objectives of the children’s programme standards. Broader challenges to the ABA’s regula­ tions are emerging from Australia’s entry into international trade treaties. It is being suggested that the ABA’s regulations are obstacles to free trade in light of CER with New Zealand and GATT. This argument denies the fact that the ABA’s standards exist for reasons of cultural protection, not trade protection. As we head towards the year 2000, the broadcasting system as we know it is about to be revolutionized with a plethora of new channels and delivery systems, and new interactive technology which will alter our viewing habits. Amidst all of this technologi­ cal development, children’s interests are in danger of being overlooked. Every new decade seems to usher in new threats for children’s television. Despite the successes over the past decade, its future is far from secure. To address these issues, the ACTF is hosting a 18 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

97/98

World Summit on Television and Children in Melbourne in March 1995. The fact that such a prestigious event, the first of its kind in the world, is being held in Australia is itself a reflection of the international reputation Australia has developed in the area of children’s television. It is hoped that as a result of the World Summit, strategies will be developed to enable children’s television interests to be at the forefront as the new broadcasting era unfolds.

The Alliance Anne Britton JOINT MEDIA,

FEDERAL

SECRETARY,

E NT E RT A I N ME N T AND ARTS ALLI ANCE

Some two decades on since the so-called renaissance of the Australian cinema, the industry may not have “come-of-age” but it has certainly found its legs. The giddy success of the early 1980s where the industry churned out box-office hits with local audi­ ences has not been repeated. While Strictly B allroom , P r o o f (Jocelyn Moorhouse, 1991), C rocodile D undee (Peter Faiman, 1986), Young Einstein (Yahoo Serious, 1988), Flirting (John Duigan, 1991), T he Big Steal (Nadia Tass, 1990) and D eath in Brunsw ick (John Ruane, 1991) are among a number of local films that have recently found favour with domestic audiences, the fact remains that the success rate of the early 1980s has not been repeated. The late 1980s has reinforced Hollywood’s domination of the box-office not only in Australia but throughout the world. Nevertheless, the case for continued government support of the Australian industry remains compelling.

Th e p re s s u re to c o n v in c e g o v e r n m e n t of o u r c o n tin u e d w o r t h has m a d e us an in d u s t r y re lu c ta n t to a c k n o w l e d g e o u r c ra ft and a rtis tic w e a k n e s s e s . T h i s m u s t c h a n g e if w e are to s u r v iv e ,

anne britton

In assessing our performance we should not fall into the trap of measuring our success only on our ability to outrate Superm an (Richard Donner, 1978), Pretty W om an (Garry Marshall, 1990) or Teenage M utant N inja Turtles (Steve Barron, 1990). Australia should content itself with producing films which enjoy critical and commercial success both at home and overseas. This is not to say we should content ourselves with mediocrity. We should be brave enough to constructively criticize our ability as filmmakers. The pressure to convince government of our continued worth has made us an industry reluctant to acknowl­ edge our craft and artistic weaknesses. This must change if we are to survive. So what does the industry hold for the next decade? It is important to persuade the Federal government that the FFC ’s marching orders to deliver a commercially-viable industry within five years must be withdrawn. It is nonsense to believe that

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The industry comments

Australia will defy world trends and produce the only national film industry outside India and the U.S. that can survive without government intervention. The drop in FFC funding from $70 million in 1988 to $50 million in 1996 with future cuts foreshadowed threatens the on­ going viability of the feature film sector. While the government cannot be expected to return produc­ tion levels to those of the mid-’80s, it must be persuaded that the feature industry will simply not survive if the downward funding spiral continues. Of course, government support cannot be judged solely on direct financial assistance to the industry. Supporting a viable audio-visual sector, with measures from copyright protection to quota regulation, is equally important. The feature film industry cannot afford to view itself in isolation from other sectors. The unfortunate truth is that unless we can guarantee our hire services, post-production facilities, performers, technicians, writers and directors a reasonable level of work they will be forced to look elsewhere. T hat’s why continued quotas for television remain essential. The relaxation of Australian content rules in television adver­ tisements in 1991, and the consequent dramatic drop in produc­ tion levels, serves as a timely reminder of the rôle quotas play in our broadcast sector. Over the next decade we will undoubtedly see a new push by the commercial networks to rid themselves of their Australian content obligations. Not only must this be resisted, but the industry must be prepared to fight to ensure that all new media are required to include Australian programming. Regrettably, the Australian industry cannot sit back and relax now the Uruguay round of GATT has been concluded. Holly­ wood, led by jack Valenti, will inevitably regroup in its campaign to ensure that support mechanisms designed to carve out a meagre place for non-American product are prohibited. The Australian government's position to date has been laudable. It has reliably championed the cause of Australian culture in the audio-visual sector. The challenge for the industry will be to ensure this resolve is maintained. And, finally, the industry over the next decade must re-address the traditional trench warfare that passes for industrial relations. We cannot afford a repeat of the public relations debacle wit­ nessed last year where SPAA applied for a decrease in the lousy feature-film minimum of $434 per week for actors. With actors earning on average just over $14,000 a year, the continued resistance of the producer community to decent residuals and copyright protection must be re-assessed. • • • # •

Independent distribution Andrew Pike MANAGING

DIRECTOR,

RONIN

FI LMS

The most exciting development in Australian production for me has been the strengthening of the position held by low-budget films by first- or second-time directors taking creative risks.

20 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

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Film s like Proof, Romper Stomper and ...

Strictly Ballroom have s h o w n th a t film s p ro ­ duced fo r a ro u n d $3 m illio n o r less can have a significa nt im p a ct in te rn a tio n a lly and lo ca lly. Audiences no lo n g e r seem to c rin g e at local p ro d u ctio n s, critics no lo n g e r p a tro n ize th e m w ith half-he arted e n co u ra g e m e n t, and e x h ib i­ to rs in the m a in stre a m are w illin g to screen th e m ...

ANDREW PIKE

Instead of being marginalized and eclipsed by bigger budget The Man from Snowy Rivers, or period confections, these films have won recognition at Cannes and other festivals, and have gained a position of importance in the domestic distribution and exhi­ bition trade. Films like P roof, R om per S tom per and, of course, Strictly B allroom have shown that films produced for around $3 million or less can have a significant impact internationally and locally. Audiences no longer seem to cringe at local productions, critics no longer patronize them with half-hearted encourage­ ment, and exhibitors in the mainstream are willing to screen them, so that they no longer need to be relegated solely to fringe cinemas and art houses. The work of the AFC and the FFC ’s Trust Fund in fully funding low-budget, risk-taking work is partly responsible for the liveliness of this scene, but some of the most interesting films have come the hard I0BA route: Aya (Solrun Hoaas, 1991), Strictly B allroom and On My Own (Antonio Tibaldi, 1 993) are among those that I am familiar with that have been ingenious financial constructions, cobbled together from a wide disparity of sources. Sometimes the ingenuity of the finance mirrors the ingenuity of the film’s content and style: it takes passionate commitment to pull a film together when it comes from left field and doesn’t fit into any established genre. Ten years ago, documentaries were among the most adventur­ ous creations of our film industry, but now with television pre­ sales being virtually mandatory for a documentary to gain finance, there has been a tremendous loss of excitement in this area, in my view, and very few are either suitable or available for theatrical release. Apart from the admirable Documentary Fel­ lowship films, only a few stray documentaries still reflect the creative excitement of a decade ago: it is loss of creative energy that I trust the AFC and FFC will come to address. As a theatrical distributor, the most exciting work we can do is to develop from scratch a marketing campaign for a new Australian film, especially if we can have early involvement, from script stage onwards. The huge cost of publicity and marketing inevitably slows the pace of what one can achieve, but the richness of choice offered to us is always exciting to contemplate. For me, it is the proven validity and confidence of low-budget production in both creative and commercial terms that marks a new trend in the industry and which I believe will develop further into the 1990s.

Film school

I believe both as a nation and as p ro d u ce rs

Jenny Sabine DEAN,

VCA SCHOOL

(FORMERLY

of cinem a w e are g ro w in g up. We w ill continue OF F I L M A N D T E L E V I S I O N

SWINBURNE

FILM AND T E L E V I S I ON

SCHOOL)

The VCA School of Film and Television is now 27 years old. The productions made at the school over that 27 years have changed markedly as have our society and our film industry. Today, our student productions are more assured. They have achieved technical excellence and are still concerned with explor­ ing ideas, content and challenging the form. The Australian cinema, and dare I say psyche, also seems more assured. We no longer need to immerse ourselves in romantic examinations of Australian history. We now tell our contempo­ rary stories in a manner which is not self-consciously Australian. The future of cinema worldwide is partly tied to a technologi­ cal revolution. The mechanical/chemical processes of production and post-production are changing radically as are the means of distribution and exhibition. This is an important challenge for the VCA School of Film and Television as we receive $30,000 per year to purchase new equipment. This is an inadequate amount for the replacement of old equipment, let alone to allow for the quantum leap needed to purchase new technology. The School is currently, with the assistance of a group of eminent Australians, setting up an appeal which will be launched in March 1994 to raise funds for equipment. Although it is essential for our students to keep up with industry practice, the School will continue to emphasize ideas with technology providing the tools for their expression. Ulti­ mately, if a film is edited on a pic sync, Steenbeck, Avid or Lightworks, this is invisible to an audience. However, if the creative editing decisions are poor, these are highly visible. New forms of technology are no doubt providing new oppor­ tunities for expression. However, I suggest when the dust settles we will hopefully select the technology which suits what we want rather than the other way around. I would rather look at the ending chosen by Geoffrey Wright for R om per Stom per, John Ruane for D eath in Brunsw ick and Gillian Armstrong for The L ast D ays o f Chez N ous (1992) than make a choice from an

to have a need to express the co n ce rn s, dre a m s and visio ns of o u r society, and let us hope th a t g o ve rn m e n ts share o u r desire to p re se n t these th ro u g h cinem a and continue to subsidize th a t im p e ra tive ,

jenny sabine

interactive menu. I believe the future will provide a more secure base for the VCA School of Film and Television. In June 1994, we move into a purpose-built facility at the Victorian College of the Arts campus in South Melbourne. Unfortunately, many students still have to continue to make large financial contributions to their produc­ tions. Exhibition of their productions is now limited. Since 1992, television sales and theatrical screenings outside a season of VCA productions have not been possible. This has come about from pressure from the Media Alliance due to the students’ and School’s inability to pay actors arid extras award rates. However, I remain optimistic and hope these and other problems can be solved. I am also optimistic about Australian cinema despite on-going debate about funding policies and the technological revolution. I believe both as a nation and as producers of cinema we are growing up. We will continue to have a need to express the concerns, dreams and visions of our society, and let us hope that governments share our desire to present these through cinema and continue to subsidize that imperative.

Also approached: Phillip Adams (journalist); Richard Brennan (producer), who unfortunately had to leave for overseas; Bob Ellis (scriptwriter and political candidate); Robyn Hughes (Australian Film Television & Radio School); Paul Keating (Prime Minister); John O ’Hara (AFTRS); and Cathy Robinson (Chief Executive, AFC), whose portable computer was regrettably stolen and along with it her article.

CINEMA

PAPERS

97/98

. 21

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David Stratton TTeckTan, AlissaTanskaya, SueTate, RonnieTaylor, Nicholas Thomas, C hristina Thom pson, R. J. Thompson, Campbell Thomson, ChrisThomson, Ralph Traviato, Victoria Treole, Phil Tripp, Jenny Trustrum, ChristopherTuckfield, KatherineTulich, John Tulloch, Sue Turnbull

Contributors April 1984 - April 1994 The following is a list of all those who have written for

wood, Anna Grieve, Sarah Guest, Richard Guilliatt,

Cinema Papers during the past ten years. (For a list

Richard Guthrie, Jenni Gyffyn

of those who contributed in the first ten years, see

H Jimmy Hafesjee, Sandra Hall, Sandra den Hamer,

Cinema Papers, No. 44-5, May 1984, p. 48.)

Lani Hannah, John Hanrahan, Patricia King Hanson,

U Irene Ulman, Andrew L. Urban V Deb Verhoeven, Michael Visontay W Eduoard Waintrop, James Waites, Alexander Walker, James Walter, Chris Warner, Merv Wasson, Dave Watson, Paolo Weinberger, Bob Weiss, Archie Weller, Geoffrey Whitehead, Michael Henry Wilson, John Wojdylo, Andree Wright Y Robert de Young, Raymond Younis

In all, 1984-94 has seen 344 different writers in

Steve Hanson, Fred Harden, John Harding, Ross

print, as opposed to 259 in the preceding decade. This

Harley, Paul Harris, Michael Harvey, David Hay, Gerard

numerous and extremely diverse group of writers

Hayes, Tracey Hayward, Michael Healy, Michael

mirrors Cinema Papers’ open-door editorial policy.

Helms, Anne-Maree Hewitt, David Hollinsworth, John

Anyone who wishes to contribute to Cinema Papers is

Hopewell, Fincina Hopgood, Ian Horner, Jonathan

Many people have also contributed to lists of favourite

House, Melinda Houston, John Hughes, Simon

films, the “Dirty Dozen" and so on. Those who are not

Hughes, Peter Hutchings, Ivan Hutchinson, Jane

already listed above are: Peter Beilby, Nigel Buesst,

a higher ratio than in 1974-84 (68 or 26%), and

Hutchinson, Chris Hutson

Pamela Casellas, Dean Chamberlin, Barry Cohen, Bill

counters the reality that most writers who contact

J Liz Jacka, Andrée-Anne Jackel, Adrian Jackson,

Collins, Jill Crommelin, Mike Daly, John Flaus, Gordon

Cinema Papers, or submit material, are male.

Sally Anne Jackson, Henry Jaglom, Linda Jaivin, Brian

Glenn, Don Groves, Mike Harris, John Hinde, John

Jeffrey, Karen Jennings, Sheila Johnston, Brian Jones

Hindle, Barbara Hooks, Stan James, Neil Jillett, Tina

welcome to submit material or contact the staff. Of the 344 writers, 130 are women (38%). This is

Z Arnold Zable, Terence Ziegler, Tom Zubrycki

Non-writing contributors

Kaufman, Karen Lateo, Dougal Macdonald, Bert New­

Writers

K Daniel Kahn, Paul Kalina, Shelley Kay, Kaz, Kate

A Naoko Abe, Pauline Adamek, Phillip Adams, Judy

Kelly, Daniele Kemp, Peter Kemp, Greg Kerr, Damien

Adamson, Sue Adler, Joyce Agee, John Alexander,

Kingsbury, Stephen Knight, Dorre Koeser, Robert

Ernie Althoff, Barbara Alysen, Lindsay Amos, Kerstin

Phillip Kolker, Irene Koltarz, Peter Krien

Andersson, Paul Aslanis, S. J. Ayre

L Charles Lambert, G.R. Lansell, Peter Lawrence,

B Gideon Bachmann, Ana Maria Bahiana, Helen

Sonia Leber, Amanda Lipman, Crispin Littlehales,

Barlow, Graham Barnett, Saskia Baron, John Baxter,

Tony Llewellyn-Jones, Chris Long, Rose Lucas, David

Chris Berry, Ken Berryman, Ina Bertrand, Miro

Lyle

Staff

Bilborough, Mervyn Binns, Rod Bishop, Beverly

M Justin Macdonnell, Patrick Maher, Dusan Makavejev,

The following is a list of all those who have worked on

Blakenship, Annette Blonski, Dennis Bowers, Lisa

Almos Maksay, Linda Malcolm, Jackie Malone, Peter

the staff of Cinema Papers during the past ten years:

Bowman, Susan Bredow, Marcus Breen, Richard

Malone, David Marsh, Larry Marshall, Adrian Martin,

EDI TORS

Brennan, Kathryn Brice, Sue Bridekirk, Michael

Sue May, Geoff Mayer, Warren Mayne, Gail McCrea,

Roddick, Peter Tapp

Brindley, Anne Britton, Lino Brocka, Michael Broderick,

Anne McDonald, Lyn McDonald, Jim McElroy, Brian

P U B L I S H E R S Patricia Amad, Gina Goldsmith

Pat H. Broeske, Chris Brophy, Philip Brophy, Craig

McFarlane, Terence McMahon, Rebecca McMillan,

A D M I N I S T R A T I V E M A N A G E R S Patricia Amad,

Brown, Richard Brown, Anthony Buckley, Stephanie

Shane McNeil, Scott McQuire, Belinda Meares, Jane

J. Brodie Hanns, Debra Sharp

Bunbury, Philippa Burne, Ewan Burnett, Ron Burnett,

Messer, Sue Milliken, Andreas Missler, Harvey Mitchell,

DESI GNERS Ernie Althoff, Mick Earls, Ian Robertson,

Tammy Burnstock, Jillian Burt, Paul Byrnes

Tony Mitchell, Bruce Molloy, Mark Mordue, Jill Morris,

Lucas Seater Design, Debra Symons, Marius Foley

C Raffaele Caputo, Rolando Caputo, Dominic Case,

John Morris, Loraine Mortimer, John B. Murray, John

A D V E R T I S I N G Patricia Amad, Gina Goldsmith,

Tony Cavanaugh, Jan Chandler, Susan Charlton,

C. Murray, Scott Murray, Joanna Murray-Smith

Peggy Nicholls, Debra Sharp, PeterTapp, BarryTelfer

Franco di Chiera, Mark Chipperfield, Gilbert Coats,

N Dave Nash, Leonie Naughton, Michele Nayman,

A S S I S T A N T E D I T O R S Kathy Bail, Raffaele Caputo,

Lorenzo Codelli, Joan L. Cohen, Mary Colbert, Felicity

Stephen Niblo, John Nicoll, Mike Nicolaidi, Norbert

Debi Enker

ton, Michael van Niekerk, Kathleen Norris, Robin Oliver, Andrew Peacock, Dennis Pryor, Kevin Sadlier, Andrew Saw, Bill Shanahan, David Sly, Raymond Stanley, Louise Stephenson, Gerri Sutton, Peter Thompson, Mike Walsh, Paul Wicks, Evan Williams

Philippa Hawker, Scott Murray, Nick

Collins, Ray Comiskey, Robert Conn, Keith Connolly,

Noyaux

P R O O F R E A D E R Arthur Salton

Sarah Connolly, John Conomos, Ross Cooper, Marcial

0 Fiona O’Grady, John O’Hara, Dieter Osswald

S U B - E D I T O R S Helen Greenwood

Coppolino, Hunter Cordaiy, Paul Coulter, Brian Courtis,

P Janette Paramore, Adrienne Parr, Barrie Pattison,

E D I T O R I A L A S S I S T A N T S Nicole Amad, Raffaele

Peter Craven, Anne-Marie Crawford, Barbara Creed,

Chris Peachment, Bruce Permezel, Andrew Pike,

Caputo, Sue Illingworth, Susie Keratiotis, Linda

Christine Cremen, Stephen Crofts, Michael Crosby,

Georgina Pope, Andrew Preston, Howard H. Prouty,

Malcolm, Janet Munari

Sim on C u n liffe , S ophie C unningham , S tuart

John Pruzanski, Noel Purdon

SUBSCRIPTIONS

Cunningham, Dannu Cusack, Graeme Cutts

Q Karl Quinn

Raffaele Caputo, Sue Illingworth, Susie Keratiotis,

D Allarabaye Daja, Penny Davies, Susan Dermody,

R Don Ranvaud, Adrian Rawlings, Jorge David Remy,

Linda Malcolm, Luke Nestorowicz

Barry Dickins, Mike Downey, Tony Drouyn, Phillip

Vikki Riley, Paul Riomfalvy, Penny Robins, Nick

Secretaries: Heather Rowley, Beth Sjogren, Joan

Duchak, Anna Dzenis

Roddick, Sam Rohdie, Robert Rooney, Jonathan

Wakim

E Patricia Edgar, Ray Edmondson, Russell Edwards,

Roper, Dasha Ross, Diane Routt, William Routt, Glenys

ASSOCIATE

David Elfick, Derek Elley, Bob Ellis, Debi Enker, Michael

Rowe, Tom Ryan

McFarlane, Tom Ryan

Epis, Jan Epstein, Huw Evans, Raymond Evans

S Jennifer Sabine, John Salmond, Dave Sargent,

CONTRIBUTING

F Dan Fainaru, Liz Fell, Johan Fingal, Kiernan Finnane,

Lyndon Sayer-Jones, James Saynor, Jim Schembri,

Harden, Brian McFarlane, Tom Ryan

Nicole Amad, Paula Amad,

EDITORS

Fred Harden, Brian

E D I T O R S Ian Baillieu, Fred

BOARD

MEMBERS

Kathy Bail,

Alan Finney, Pat Fiske, Nigel Floyd, John Foam, Eva

Peter M. Schembri, Peter Schmideg, Paul Schutze,

EDITORIAL

Fornmazaic, Richard Fotheringham, Felicity Foxx,

Jocelynne Scutt, Sandra Sdraulig, Sally Semmens,

John Baxter, Chris Berry, Rod Bishop, Ron Burn-ett,

Richard Franklin, Glenn Fraser, Michael Freedman,

Sylvie Shaw, Graham Shirley, Brian Shoesmith, Bron

Annette Blonski, Raffaele Caputo, Rolando Caputo,

Freda Freiberg, Eva Friedman, Graham Fuller

Sibree, Roger Simpson, Neil Sinyard, Tom Skotnicki,

Felicity Collins, Hunter Cordaiy, Stuart Cunningham,

G Peter Galvin, Geoff Gardner, Helen Garner, Pat

John Slavin, Margaret Smith, Steven J. Spears, Mark

Debi Enker, Brian McFarlane, Adrienne McKibbins,

Gillespie, Antony I. Ginnane, Verina Glaessner, Dena

Spratt, Antoinette Starkiewicz, Joe Stefanos, Susan

John Nicoll, Bill Routt

Gleeson, Nicki Gostin, Trevor Graham, Helen Green­

Stewart, Mark Stiles, Sally Stockbridge, Ian Stocks,

OFFICE

C A T Sylvester CINEMA

PAPERS

97/98

• 23

Working in Am erica [Richard

Franklin

As a contributor to the first issue of C inema P apers, I was pleased to be asked to contribute to this 20th Anniversary issue. The topic, however, is one I normally avoid, with the inevitable question of comparing our crews and theirs. But perhaps the time has come to explain why I came back.

Americans will tell you they live not in America, but in “the States”; that AMERICA is not a place but an idea. This may sound like semantics till you realize the HOLLYW OOD, about which you hear so much, is also an idea. It is to Los Angeles what America is to the States - a dream. And since L. Lrank Baum (author of The W izard o f Oz) died in Los Angeles, I don’t think it a stretch to say that David Williamson stopped short in his quest for an Emerald City. There’s a seedy part of LA which centres on a street called Hollywood Boulevard, which is paved with terrazzo stars and thronged with Americans hoping to see their dream glitter. At best they find tinsel. They read the names on the “Walk of Lame” and flash away at the footprints of “stars” in the grey cement of Grauman’s (now M ann’s) Chinese. If you move away from the flashlights, there are less muggers, hookers, crazies and crack dealers than on any other street which bears the name of an idea - BROADWAY. The Hollywood Chamber of Commerce has imposed a curfew to keep the street people away at night (the U.S. has effectively no “dole”, so LA has lots of them). They also managed to stop the Disney organization demolishing an old movie theatre called The Paramount, pointing out the irony that this same company makes money from a re-creation of Hollywood Boulevard in Llorida. To baby boomers intent on taking their kids to the birthplace of Mickey Mouse, I’m now inclined to recommend the re-creation to the “real” - Llorida also has tours of studios (built for the purpose) and a Disneyland of its own. But living in LA (where even the baggage tags are LAX), one tends to offer visitors rose-coloured glasses and allow their enthusiasm to bolster one’s own. I rationalized a sort of love-hate with the city which has given the world so much of its culture yet has so little of its own. And I continued to believe in “Hollywood”, reasoning that some­ where (probably behind the gates of the fortress-like studios) a place as mythical as Camelot or the Emerald City MUST be hidden. After all, both had been built here. And if it wasn’t, why 24 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

97/98

had all these Americans travelled so far — though perhaps “fallen” would be more in keeping with Prank Lloyd Wright’s wonderful “turn the map of the U.S. on its side and everything loose falls into California” ? Well, having finally breached the sacred stucco of the studio walls, I’m pleased to report that the “model train set” (as Orson Welles called it before he was denied its use) is still running - sort of.

Seeing a chair with my name on it on Hitchcock’s favourite sound stage excited me till we held the wrap party on our set, and I couldn’t understand why my producer (a former head of the studio) was so ill-at-ease. Then he told me that the mattresses and chicken wire with which all the stage walls are insulated are rat infested. Nonetheless, the facility is awesome. Even in television, a director can decide at lunchtime he wants to do a crane shot, and by two o’clock a mighty “T itan”, the biggest piece of hardware ever devised to move a piece of celluloid around, lumbers onto the set. On one occasion, we had a Louma on top of a Titan crane and I was reminded how it used to bother me that the only piece

“Where once the Mayers and Cohns puffed away on cigars, while starlets knelt on velvet cushions giving lip service to their power, there are now lots and lots of the best and brightest young graduates (m ostly of business and law, not film schools).” of such hardware here with pedigree was a small crane suppos­ edly used on L aw ren ce o f A rabia. Then I saw an amateur shooting Hi-8 with a Steadicam Jr and realized how far our industry has allowed itself to fall behind. You only need to look at a Panaflex sitting on a geared head (like a pimple on a pumpkin) to realize such a device was designed to handle much larger, outmoded cameras, or to look at Sony’s name above the gate of the old M GM lot (now Columbia) and at Matsushika/National’s acquisition of Universal to realize that the technology of the present and future is coming from much closer to our shores. And Hollywood, with its outmoded “plant” (the factories pretentiously called “studios”), will be the last to

take advantage of it. Seeing the two VCR giants go head to head this (American) sum m er with th eir glad iator/sam urais Sp ielberg and Schwarzenegger was culturally perverse. Hollywood may still lead the Coca-colonization of our planet, but for how long? Which brings me to the “front office”. According to Holly­ wood lore, Kubrick modelled the obelisk in 2001: A Space O dyssey on the fifteen-story Universal “tower”, one of the seats of “power” politics about which I said something in a previous issue. I worked in the valley of the shadow of the tower for the best and worst of two years and pictures, and then worked for a couple of the other “m ajors”. Welles said “it was fun outwitting the dino­ saurs, but the college graduates are something else”. Where once the Mayers and Cohns puffed away on cigars, while starlets knelt on velvet cushions giving lip service to their power, there are now lots and lots of the best and brightest young graduates (mostly of business and law, not film schools). And individually they’re perfectly reasonable people. On one occasion, I was lamenting the “state of the art” with the executive assigned to my picture,

ABOVE: RICHARD FRANKLIN: "RIDING A TITAN CRANE ON THE FIRST DAY OF PRINCIPAL PHOTOGRAPHY, PSYCHO I I. " FACING PAGE: FRANKLIN: "JOHN FORD TOLD ME IN 1967 IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE IN MODERN HOLLYWOOD TO MAKE PICTURES LIKE HE USED TO. I ASSUME IT WAS A FUNCTION OF HIS ADVANCING YEARS." LEFT: FRANKLIN: "MICHAEL DOUGLAS ASKED ME TO DIRECT HIM IN A STRAIGHT THRILLER, INTO THE NIGHT. A COUPLE OF YEARS LATER, IT HAD BECOME A SEND-UP AND JON LANDIS ASKED ME TO APPEAR. HE SAID HE NEEDED SOMEONE WHO LOOKED LIKE A ROCKET SCIENTIST."

CINEMA

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• 25

Franklin: Working in America

“ I was pleasantly surprised at first by the m ilitary-style hierarchy on American sets. Someone was always behind you with a chair, but, after a while, I missed the slap on the back egalitarianism of Aussies. Not that I like the ersatz British class notion that ‘every director is an arsehole until he proves otherwise’. But I prefer the feedback from m y col­ laborators to the deferential smile and the ‘I knew that w ouldn’t w o rk ’ at the cast and crew screening - when it’s too late to fix it.”

believing she had the power to control the picture and my future. She listened patiently, then asked if I could lend her $20 as she had to take my leading man out for a drink. I realized that power like other things on Hollywood is transitory and mostly illusory, like the “ Wizard o fO z ” asking us to “pay no attention to the man behind the screen”. But collectively, a “suit” of executives is just a committee. And when one committee tries to please another in the distribution department, individual passion and vision are lost as all films try to be all things to all men. The end result pleases no one, least of all the members of said committees. Those who complain about red tape here should be aware that bureaucracy is alive and kicking in Hollywood, that the “moving goalposts” about which you hear so much pale by comparison to what Hollywood calls “gaslighting”. This is the process whereby (like Ingrid Bergman in Gaslight) following instructions leads to being asked why on earth you did what you did (and finally to, presumably, being driven mad). Old Hollywood was a monopoly and the anti-trust laws of the 1950s busted it up. But with production, distribution and exhi­ bition separated, Hollywood is now likened to a giant whose limbs have been severed, but still thrash about trying to interact with the torso. And the conglomerates have turned passion and vision into homogenization. Which brings me to the no-win question about crews. Now that the tea breaks are a thing of our colonial past (they don’t even have them on English sets), Australian crews work ten hours plus lunch, while Americans work twelve less lunch. I’ve worked with all three types of U.S. crews (IA, Nabet and non-union) and they’re all good - excellent. There’s a depth of talent and a fierce sense of competition which is both a part of the American ethos and a consequence of closed-door unions and guilds, which you have to be invited to join. (The open-door policy here may seem 26 • C I N E M A

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more democratic, but it does lead to more insecurity among its members, and more phone calls looking for work during the final weeks of our shoots.) I was pleasantly surprised at first by the military-style hierar­ chy on American sets. Someone was always behind you with a chair, but, after a while, I missed the slap on the back egalitari­ anism of Aussies. Not that I like the ersatz British class notion that “every director is an arsehole until he proves otherwise”. But I prefer the feedback from my collaborators to the deferential smile and the “I knew that wouldn’t w ork” at the cast and crew screening - when it’s too late to fix it. American crews work very hard and it’s a pleasure to work with them. But I’m afraid the Protestant work ethic, fuelled by fundamentalist guilt and the mighty dollar (whose symbol de­ rives from the letters US), leads to bad things too. Here you ask permission to go into overtime; there, no reference is made as your crews’ eyes turn first into cash registers, then into taxi meters and finally glaze over as everyone staggers about thinking how rich they’ll become. The last day of many shoots (and every Friday night on tele­ vision), when actor “turnaround” is no longer an issue, can be a nightmare. I have worked on such occasions more than twentyfour hours straight and even had the crew propping me up, because even at double and triple “golden tim e” it’s cheaper than shooting an extra day. The effect of this is that U.S. crews can sometimes go one “television Friday night” too many. Aussie crews are either for you or against you, whereas the Americans are inclined to run (quite efficiently) on one cylinder less than capacity. I was shooting a stunt there and recalled an old Homicide trick, whereby a waft of dust thrown from next to camera could make the end of an action look more final. Suddenly my key grip had a sort of epiphany, “ ... so you want to make this show good, do you?”, and ran off to his truck. He returned with some exotic device once used on Westerns to dispense something called “fuller’s earth” and I was struck by the fact that, if he had missed that I cared, he would not have bothered. There used to be a tendency here to act as if the entire future of our industry lies in every film, and this can be a bad thing. But they diminish theirs - everything becoming merely a “show”. America and Hollywood (the ideas) are wonderful, but LA and the States are having their problems. I moved my family home, away from the crossfire of Magnums in school play­ grounds, several years ago, but I continued to commute. Then in 1992, as I watched the rioters focus their rage on the trashing of a trashy lingerie shop called Fredericks of Hollywood, I was struck by the empty, impotent absurdity of such a statement. And as the flames obscured the Hollywood sign, I was reminded that the hero of Nathanael W est’s The Day o f the Locust was working on a painting entitled “The Burning of Los Angeles”. I wish I could say that modern Hollywood is still that of Singin' in the Rain, but I suspect it has gone West. Then came the Malibu fires. Now the 6.6 in the valley. And next will come the long overdue “big one”, which is supposed to re-define the Richter scale and take the whole of California (another “dream” ) into the sea. And next ... There’s no place like home. ■

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On the wall at my place Now a highly-read, controversial and genumely-funny features writer at The Ace (Melbourne), began his writing career by penning reviews at Cinema Papers. He looks back ... On the wall at my place, just below the photocopy of Johnny­ Rotten and to the right of the N ew Idea cover featuring a baby altered with liquid paper and black texta to resemble Gene Simmons from ‘Kiss’, is a yellowing sheet of A4 paper headed CLICHÉS TO AVOID. It went up in the early 1980s as I was beginning to get used to seeing my film reviews appear in the pages of Cinem a Papers. The list, about 40 items long, was supposed to be some sort of vow. It detailed buzzwords and phrases that seemed to recur in film reviews and articles, especially in newspapers. Back then I read the list frequently, and with great pride. Each time I penned something for Cinem a Papers I carefully cross-checked the list to make sure no transgressions had occurred. Now, occasionally, sometimes at intervals that stretch into years, my conscience prods me hard enough to look at the list again, and I weep. Sometimes I howl. An occupational hazard of working in newspapers is the almost hysterical demand for concision. Thus does one resort to phrases such as “the result is”, “the thinking man’s” so-and-so, “a must-see” whatever, and to words like “sweeping”, “sprawl­ ing” and “stunning”. Often there is too little time or space to think of anything else. Often that’s just an excuse to keep you from having to think of anything else. As I look at the list, I despair at those entries that have erupted into my copy. But as the depression deepens and the Wiltshire Staysharp hovers over the forearm ready to gouge in and put me out of my misery, I notice that, yes, among them is a solid handful of oaths undertaken in the name of Cinem a Papers which have remained inviolate. The one that screams out is the fawning use of the word “brilliant”, a standard I have (by and large) stuck by, especially recently amidst the messianic regard given Jane Campion’s The Piano and Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven. That working for Cinem a Papers instilled standards that could survive 10 years at a newspaper is a cause not only for gratitude, but for belief in the Almighty. Standards at Cinema Papers were always high. While in the office one afternoon chatting with editor Scott Murray, the 1982 Australian road movie Running On Em pty (John Clark), which had just been released, came up. I said I’d seen the thing and remarked that it was suitable only for “retarded midgets”. I didn’t mean anything politically incorrect by it, I just wanted to express the view that the film was a piece of shit. None the less, the comment received resounding applause and guffaws of approval. Someone may even have taken a note of it. It was then that I knew I was in the esteemed company of people devoted to an intellectual discourse on the intricate and subtle dialectics of cinema. Certainly the freedom to discuss films at length in the pages of Cinem a Papers is a luxury I have now come to fully appreciate. When I find myself trying to cram an overview of an eight-hour 28 • C I N E M A

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Ji m

S ch em b r I

V___________________ ___________ !___________

mini-series into 15 centimetres, or condense a detailed, exhaus­ tive 45-minute interview with a director into 3Q, I yearn for the indulgence of being allowed the length to not only opine, but qualify. Expressing opinion without the room for adequate qualifica­ tion is one of the perpetual bugbears one has to live with in newspapers, and one which one has to ceaselessly fight against, however vain the battle can sometimes be. I still think back with some pride on my CP review of James Cameron’s The Abyss (1989), which I was able to illustrate with quotes from the director. And as far as I know, my 2700-word appreciation of the 87 minutes o í Puberty Blues (Bruce Beresford, 1 981) is the longest-ever review to appear in CP. Sure, that may have been a tad excessive, but I have never ceased being thankful for the opportunity, and the room, to develop ideas, critical sense and writing style. The Q & A interviews in Cinem a Papers were a big influence. That people could ask critical questions of filmmakers to their faces has had a lasting effect on my own interviewing techniques. Over the years, this has no doubt resulted in being blackballed from a few Christmas-card mailing lists, but it is a CP tradition I proudly champion - time and space allowing. Reading other CP reviews was also instructive for the sheer appreciation of how different views could open up a film in ways you never thought possible. D uet fo r Pour (Tim Burstall, 1982) always seemed to me to be a boring, crappy, mishandled domes­ tic melodrama until I read the Cinem a Papers review, which had so many adjectives in it some of them had to have slashes in them just to give the reader time to draw breath. Perhaps the most enjoyable aspect of writing for CP - and another I have come to deeply miss thanks to the hothouse environment of newspapers —was the almost infinite elasticity of deadlines. However pressing the phone calls were to finally get it in gear and get something done, there always seemed to be an extra week or two. Indeed, the piece you are now reading was promised - unconditionally-tw o-and-a-half weeks before itwas finally faxed through late on a Friday afternoon. They thought I was being tardy. I was just being nostalgic.1 I still look at the CLICHÉS TO AVOID list every now and again. While a lot of it has been violated by the compromise of concision, I console myself with the thought that I have at least tried to defend the dignity of an idea, and be faithful to that rarest of all things in journalism - a philosophy. Anyone who can keep one of those in a business like this has got to be grateful for something - and I am grateful for Cinem a Papers. _ 1 The original title of Scott Murray’s Australian Film: 1978-1992 was actually Australian Film : 1978-87. The guy has really got to learn to put his foot down.

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. 29

Peter M. Schembri and Jackie Malone

Television programmes are currently one of Australia’s biggest export industries.1 This situation has emerged out of necessity. Domestic consumption can no longer sustain a profitable televi­ sion industry; therefore, production is now dependent on over­ seas sales. Terry Ohlsson, managing director of Crawfords, claims that 50% of all Australian television drama is financed by sales overseas, bringing in annual export revenues of “well over $75 million”.2 The importance of overseas sales is also stressed by Nick M cMahon, managing director of Village Roadshow Pictures and executive producer of Paradise B ea ch : “No TV production company can recoup its investment in its domestic market. You have to export.” ’ Of all the potential overseas markets for Australian television, the U.S. remains the most attractive because it is the most lucrative. The challenge for Australian producers is to introduce and maintain Australian television drama (series and serials) on American syndicated television, since these types of programmes build permanent audiences over time. However, the American market remains resistant to non-U.S. programmes; Australian television drama remains conspicuously absent from American television screens. Part of the problem, it seems, is the cultural parochialism of the U.S.4 In an attempt to break into the Ameri­ can long-form drama market, Australian producers have tried alternative strategies to the traditional strategy of exporting completed local product.5Paradise B ea ch , a soap opera made for the U.S. syndication market, represents such an innovative strategy. 30 • C I N E M A

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LEFT: ROY McDERMOTT (JOHN HOLDING), SEAN HAYDEN (INGO RADEMACHER) AND CASSIE BARSBY (KIMBERLY JOSEPHZ). CENTRE LEFT: KIRK BARSBY (JON BENNETT) WINS. CENTRE RIGHT: LISA WHITMAN (TIFFANY LAMB) AND TORI HAYDEN (MEGAN CONNOLLY). BELOW: SEAN HAYDEN AND CASSIE BARSBY. PARADISE BEACH.

Produced at the Gold Coast-based Warner Roadshow Stu­ dios, P aradise B each is a joint venture of Village Roadshow, New World Entertainment (a U.S. distribution company), and the Nine Network Australia. The involvement of New World Enter­ tainment, which also distributes the two American soaps, Santa Barbara and T he B o ld an d the B eau tifu l, has been crucial to the project. Nick McMahon has said that P aradise B each could not have been made without an international deal: “You can no longer afford to get your full budget back from the licence fee paid by an Australian network-you have to look overseas.”6The Goss Labor Government in Queensland, as part of its commit­ ment to promoting the film and television industries in Queens­ land, has also provided financial support and other support in the form of incentives. In addition to attracting overseas revenue, Paradise B ea ch , it was hoped, would generate an interest in tourism and provide employment for a local cast and crew. In fact, P aradise B each kept a crew of 85 in work for the first 26week series.8 New World Entertainment was responsible for the pre-sales of Paradise B each to a large number of countries: networks in the

U.S., parts of Western Europe, Asia and South America, and New Zealand. The television programme was also bought by Britain’s BSkyBU New World expected the potential worldwide audience for Paradise Beach to be forty to fifty million people.10In the U.S., 82% of television stations bought the television programme, which represented the biggest sale of a non-American television programme in the U.S.11It went to air in the U.S. o n l4 June 1993 and was shown on more than 200 stations across the country, screening in some markets at the peak time of 7.30pm .12 Paradise B each was sold through the barter syndication market, in which a television producer gives a programme to a station in exchange for some advertising time in the programme. The producer then sells the advertising time and pockets the revenue. According to Nick McMahon, a three per cent rating in the U.S. would have translated into SU.S.l 8,000 for a 30-second advertisement in the programme. For this reason, early ratings were critical.15 In particular, the producers identified the first ratings from the Los Angeles market as of particular importance.14 This emphasis on Los Angeles ratings was unfortunate for a number of reasons. Scheduling in Los Angeles pitted Paradise B each against a strong competitor, T he O prah W infrey Show . One CBS spokesperson, in early July, reported that since Para­ dise Beach's opening it was being seen in fewer than 40,000 homes in the Los Angeles area, compared to O prah W infrey, which was seen in 4 00,0 0 0 homes.1'’ As a consequence, Paradise B each was significantly out-rated every day. CINEMA

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. 31

Paradise Beach Reconsidered

Another difficulty with identifying Los Angeles as the critical test market for ratings was the similarity between the region’s geographical and climatic features and those of Queensland. Initially, the producers assumed that part of the appeal of the programme would be based in differences between the show’s exterior setting and other less attractive geographical locations. Certainly the ratings in the U.S. suggested that regional viewing patterns differed according to proximity to, or remoteness from, the beach and sunshine. As a result, since Paradise B each went to air across the U.S., it has done well in some markets, not so well in others. According to Anne Elliot, communications director for New York-based Nielsen Media Research, for the week beginning 21 June the programme was on in 1.2 per cent of the 93 million American homes with television sets. Elliot pointed out, however, the importance of knowing when it was scheduled during the day “because a 1.2 share is good if it’s playing overnight, but not very good in prime times”. The nationwide rating was only slightly better than in Los Angeles.16 The concept of Paradise B each was founded on an apparent global demand for soap opera. James M. McNamara, president of New World Entertainment, the U.S. distribution company for Paradise B each, has observed that soap opera feeds a worldwide addiction that cannot be satisfied by American (and other) product. McNamara noted the prevalence and success of soap: Soap operas are on in every country in the world and in most places they are successful. We have seen how profitable the soap opera can be and yet how difficult it is to do it. If you compare prime time shows to soap operas in 1993 there were 60 or 70 new prime time shows and 95 per cent of them failed, but there were no new soap operas produced in the US this year and to my knowledge no new soaps produced in the UK [...) So there’s only one new show this year [Paradise Beach]. We saw the potential for profit. We knew there’s not a whole lot of supply but there’s a lot of demand.1 The producers saw a niche in the world market for a teenoriented soap opera. Their vision has not been shared by many of the show’s critics for whom P aradise B each poses certain problems, largely because it is a soap opera and a hybrid soap opera, at that. Soap opera, despite recent attempts in criticism to elevate its status, remains an easy target for the barbs of journal­ ists, and Paradise B each has attracted more than its fair share of these. Paradise B each has provided journalists with an ideal opportunity to outdo each other in journalistic wordplay. Diana Wichtel dubbed the programme “Stupidity Beach”, likening the intellectual capacities of two key characters, Sean Hayden (Ingo Rademacher) and Roy McDermott (John Holding), to the “com­ bined IQ of a mentally challenged cane toad”. She contends that the absence of a concept is obscured by a focus on the “bulging pecs of richboy iron-man Kirk [Jon Bennett]” and on the “per­ petually lycra-clad charms of Tori [Megan Connolly] and Cassie [Kimberley Joseph]”. 1S Robin Oliver also noticed the “pecs” which, when combined with “glazed looks” , become the “modus operandi” of Paradise B ea ch . 19 But a contradiction soon be­ comes apparent. P aradise B each is dismissed as merely frivolous soap opera; for example, Rachel Shohet contends that it, like other soap operas (including popular soaps), relies on “bizarre plot twists and endless family dramas”20. At the same time, Paradise B each is condemned because it lacks intellect and it does not match the production values of American teen series, such as B ayivatch or Beverly Hills 90210. 32 • C I N E M A

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Comparisons with American series such as these have emerged largely because they are one of the many sources on which Paradise B each draws. Other sources include television adver­ tisements, music clips, the Australian film T he C oolan gatta G old (Igor Auzins, 1984) which centres on an iron-man contest, and the beach blanket movies of the 1960s. James M. McNamara implicitly tied the show’s concept to a worldwide fantasy of “running away to the beach” —a fantasy that began, according to McNamara, with the days of the beach blanket movies.21Greg Coote, president of Village Roadshow Pictures, described the programme in an early interview as “slick, glossy B everly Hills 90210 meets N eighbou rs meets Bay w a tch ” ,22This account of the cross-cultural cross-generic mix that comprises Paradise B each was developed further in The Age: “B ayw atch!B everly Hills 9 0 2 1 0 /M elrose P lace meets N eigh h ou rs!H om e a n d A w ay/ C oolan gatta G o ld meets KFC babefest”.2’ P aradise B each is certainly an amalgam, a soap opera that addresses teenagers and uses certain stylistic devices of American teen series, and of music clips and advertisements. Almost all programmes engage in such selective borrowing. Therefore, this should be taken into account before making uninformed aesthetic comparisons between these sources and P aradise B each. The most frequent comparison drawn is that between P ara­ dise B each and Bayw atch. Both television programmes share a beach setting, teen address, and what some critics have called “an MTV moment”, with its “two-minute montage of sleek shots of beautiful bodies and plenty of sun, surf and sand set to the latest pop music hit” .2-4 There, the similarities end. In the first instance, there are significant differences in budgets and production schedules (and associated production values), as McMahon pointed out in an interview with the Brisbane Sunday Mail. The eight-day shooting schedule for Paradise B each consisted of three days of studio taping and five days of outside filming. For this, the output was five episodes per week or twenty-four minutes of drama per day. In contrast, teen series such as Bayw atch operate on a budget of $1 million per episode and allow ten days to produce one hour of drama.2’ This may sound as if Paradise B each operated on a tight budget; it did. To break even, the serial had to return about four times the cost of production, so keeping costs low was important.26 Furthermore, there are differences in genre and associated viewing expectations and pleasures. As McNamara has noted, Bayw atch is a weekly series; Paradise B each is a weekday soap opera, and audiences bring different expectations to each.2 However, these expectations will vary depending on the market and products available. According to McNamara, the soap opera scene in the U.S. can be defined in terms of local day­ time soaps such as D ays o f O ur Lives and Santa B arbara. These soaps would be used to provide the basis for audience compari­ son of Paradise B each in the U.S. When compared to these U.S. soaps, Paradise B each offered three innovative features: teen address, higher production values and location shots. Since American soap operas only accommodate teenagers in the sum­ mer, Paradise B each could, it was hoped, fill a void in the U.S. market. A further selling point for overseas audiences was to be the higher production values evident in the location shots of the “spectacular” Gold Coast.2S As an example, McMahon has pointed out that, of every twenty minutes, eight minutes were shot outdoors.20 Compared to the U.S., the Australian context is somewhat different in that Australian product has considerably extended the definition of soap opera to encompass a range of programme types. Australian programmes such as A Country Practice and G.P. have also included a conscious treatment of contemporary

social issues. Furthermore, soaps such as N eighbou rs and H om e an d A w ay have increased the legitimacy of teen address. If P aradise B each is to be evaluated against well-established Aus­ tralian product for its innovative storylines and production values, it will likely be found wanting. There are, however, a number of reasons why such a comparison is unwarranted. One reason why it is rather pointless to draw comparisons between Paradise B each and other local soap opera (or any long-standing soap opera, for that matter) relates to the ways that fandom is established. Paradise B each has simply not been given the oppor­ tunity, or the time, to court its fans. As Ridley Williams, who lectures in film and television at the Queensland University of Technology, has commented: It is unfair to compare Paradise Beach with the H om e and Away or N eighbours of today; the show would be better compared to each of these in their early days. The other shows have had time to develop; they have honed and refined their actors and writers. Another reason is that Paradise B each shares more with American day-time soap opera than prime-time Australian soap. The main similarity is an emphasis on visually depicting glamor­ ous lives, but on a tight production budget. When Robin Oliver comments on the wedding of (the rich and shameless) Tom Barsby and Lisa, he criticizes its low production values/*1But were similar criticisms made about the production values in Days o f O ur Lives when Beau and Hope wedded or when Patch and Cayla were married (for the first, second, third time)? For their fans, the pleasure related to the intensity of characters’ relationships, not to the production budget. Perhaps some Australian, and overseas, critics still need to watch more U.S. daytime soap to appreciate the significance of the genre for an evaluation of Paradise Beach.

M I M A

’S

FOURTH

N A T I 0 N A L

F I L M

A N D

A N

M EL B 0 U R N E

BIENNIAL I N T E R

D

SURVEY N A T

I O N A L

V I D E O

1 7 - 2 7

OF

NO V E M B E R

A R T 1994

e x p e .r i m e n t a CALL

FOR

E N T R I E S Australian artists working with

film a n d /o r video, including its application in performance and installation art, are invited to submit works for inclus­ ion in Experimenta 1994. MIMA w ill consider written prop­ osals, works in progress and completed works. A rtist’s fees w ill be paid fo r all exhibited works and, in some cases, sub­ sidised travel and accommodation w ill be provided for int­ erstate artists.

ENTRY

D E A D L I N E S Installation and

Performance: Friday 13 May; Cinema Screenings: Friday 1 July, 1994. ENTRY

FOR

FURTHER

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INFORMATION

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contact Experimenta Coordinator:

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IM A G E M A K E R S A S S O C I A T I O N M I M A A C K N O W L E D G E S T H E S U P P OR T OF TH E A U S T R A L I A N FILM C O M M I S S I O N , FILM V I C T O R I A , THE VI SUA L A R T S / C R A F T B OAR D OF TH E A U S T R AL I A C O UN C IL , C I T Y OF M EL BO URN E AND ART S V I C T OR I A

Notes 1 “Lights! Camera! Export! ”, Australian Business M onthly, October 1992, p. 94. 2 Ibid. 3 “Village Goes Global with Low-rish T V ”, Business Review W eekly, 7 May 1993, p. 33. 4 “Exporting ‘Paradise’”, The A ge, Green Guide, 27 May 1993, p. 2. 5 Stuart Cunningham and Elizabeth Jacka, “Neighbourly Relalions? Cross­ cultural reception analysis and Australian soaps in Britain”, unpublished manuscript, 1993. 6 The Age, Green Guide, op. cit., pp.1-2. 7 “Hollywood on the Gold Coast?”, Filmnews, July 1993, p. 3. 8 “Movie Boom”, The Courier-M ail, 17 July 1993. 9 The Age, Green Guide, op. cit., p. 1. 10 “Surf, sex - and sales”, T he Courier-M ail, 1993, p. 32. 11 Business Review Weekly, op. cit., p. 33 12 T he Age, Green Guide, loc. cit.; T he Courier-M ail, loc. cit. 13 Business R eview W eekly, loc. cit. 14 The Sydney M orning H erald, The Guide, 26 July - 1 August 1993; “Paradise Lost to Oprah Fans”, Herald-Sun, Melbourne, 14 July 1993. 15 Herald-Sun, op. cit. 16 Ibid. 17 T he A ge, Green Guide, op. cit., p. 2. 18 “Ain’t it a Beach”, Listener, 28 August 1993, p. 71. 19 “Paradise pumped up to a new low”, The Sydney Morning H erald, The Guide, 9 August 1993, p. 15. 20 Sunday Mail, Magazine, 16 May 1993, p. 4. 21 The Age, Green Guide, op. cit., p. 1. 22 Business R eview W eekly, op. cit., p. 32. 23 The Age, Green Guide, loc. cit. 24 Ibid. 25 Sunday M ail, Magazine, loc. cit. 26 “Paradise Beach-, not all washed up”, C om m unique, 10 September, p. 2. 27 T he Age, Green Guide, loc. cit. 28 Ibid. 29 Sunday Mail, Magazine, op. cit., p. 5. 30 C om m unique, loc. cit. 31 T he Sydney M orning H erald, The Guide, loc. cit. ®

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C HL ~R •»•S‘y.

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L O N G

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-v

Australia’s First Films : Part Seven: Screening the Salv T h e S a lv a t io n A r m y , l o n g k n o w n f o r its ill u st r a t e d lecture S o l d ie r s of th e C r o s s

( 1 9 0 0 ) , established

A u s t r a l i a ’s f i r s t p e r m a n e n t f i lm p r o d u c t i o n u n it in 1 8 9 7 . A u s t r a l i a n p r o d u c t i o n had the s u p p o r t of an o r g a n i z a t i o n f o r the f i r s t t i m e . It w a s no l o n g e r l im i t e d to the r e s o u r c e s of in d iv id u a l s .

Far from being the religious film producer portrayed in most accounts, the Salvation Army used films to raise funds for its social and religious work. It was a commercial venture, the “Limelight Department” producing 300 diverse films before 1909 to attract patronage for its shows.1It stimulated others into production by providing film processing facilities at reasonable rates.2 It persuaded the governments of Victoria, New South Wales and New Zealand to film important events with its facilities. When its film activity ceased in 1910, many of the Limelight Department’s operators entered the labour force nec­ essary for Australia’s burgeoning cinema industry.

A N ew F i l m H i s t o r y R e s o u r c e In 1984, the Salvation Army established Melbourne archives under George Ellis’ direction, which include many Limelight Department records. Last year, the Salvation Army Heritage Centre expanded to occupy two floors of a building behind the Limelight Department’s old headquarters at 69 Bourke Street. Its holdings reveal some surprising Salvation Army film production achievements: • Construction of Australia’s first film studio (February 1898). • First films of slum life (1898). • First Australian narrative films for lecture, Social Salvation (1898-99), on Salvation Army social work. • First local feature-length film, Inauguration o f the Australian C om m on w ealth (1901), most of which survives. • First Australian history documentary, Under Southern Skies (August 1 902). • First registered production company, the A ustralasian K in em atographic C om pany (1901). • First Australian bushranging drama, Bushranging in North Q ueensland (shot March 1904). The myth of Soldiers o f the Cross has obscured the scope and the scale of Salvation Army film production for decades. The new archival resources will re-align perspectives on Australia’s out­ standing pioneer producer.

T he A r m y of A l t r u i s m The Salvation Army was born in the London slums, where from 1865 its founder, William Booth (1829-1912), ran a Christian mission at Whitechapel.2 Booth was able to sting the public conscience into action with his eloquence, and to back it up with assistance to the poor. By 1878, the mission had spread beyond London, and it was re-organized on quasi-military lines as “The Salvation Army” with Booth as its commanding “ G e n e ral” .4 Its Left top: William Booth (1829-1912), founder of the Salvation Army, photographed in Brisbane while on an Australasian tour, probably 1899. Photo by courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. Bottom: Joe Perry (1864-1943), chief operator of the Salvation Army Limelight Department, photographed in his commercial photographic studio in Ballarat, 1891. Note “P.G.B.” epaulettes (“Prison Gate Brigade”). Photo by courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. 34 . C I N E M A

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FACTS A ND FABLES

ation Army work in combating financial, moral and spir­ itual suffering was regarded as organized war­ fare against social evils, clearing the way for evangelization. Booth in particular believed that those alienated from society could be reclaimed if they felt that a decent member of that society cared about their conditions. In the 1880s, without any state aid, it established schemes for prisoner repatriation, low-cost accommodation, job placement as­ sistance, cheap food supply, legal aid for the poor, a missing-persons bureau and a drug and alcohol rehabilitation programmed In 1890, Booth published his integrated social work plan, In D arkest England, an d the Way O ut(\ then he worked until his death to see that plan carried out. Booth’s scheme promoted emigration to Britain’s colonies as a solution for the prob­ lems of slum life. Australia figured largely in these plans. Our first Salvation Army meeting was held in Adelaide in 1880, and in Decem­ ber 1882 a small group met in Melbourne to establish its Australasian headquarters. By 1890, Australia’s Salvation Army force was only exceeded outside Britain by the move­ ment in the U.S.8

B a r r it t a n d P erry Slide projection had occasionally been used as a Salvation Army lecture aid in Britain for several years by the time of William Booth’s first Australasian tour in 1891.9 The Army’s Special Projects Officer, Major Frank E. Barritt, was looking for a novel method of advertising Booth’s visit when he chanced across the work of Joseph Henry Perry (1864-1943). Born in Birmingham on 5 August 1 8 6 4 10, the son of a shoe­ maker, Perry had emigrated to New Zealand with his parents at the age of 1 0 ." After working in the Dunedin Fire Brigade, he joined the fledgling Salvation Army in 1883, touring New Zealand organizing corps brass bands and ministering to congre­ gations varying from Wanganui Maori to Wellington prosti­ tutes.12 Especially successful work at the Nelson prisoner repatriation home led to his Australian posting in October 1885, soon after his marriage to Captain Annie Laurenson.1' Perry amassed musical, artistic and oratory skills on his travels. At the Sydney Salvation Army centre he worked as a lithographer, then during preaching assignments in Northern New South Wales, in about 1888, he took up photography as a h o b b y .14 Brief appointments to the Victorian towns of Castlemaine, Shepparton and Benalla were followed in April

Above: Outdoor slide show in Little Collins Street, Melbourne, given by the Salvation Army Limelight Department. Screening the “Rock of Ages" hymn series from W ar Cry (Melbourne), 28 July 1894, courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. Left: Joe Perry screening slides at Prahran with his bi-unial projector. From W ar Cry (Melbourne), 16 June 1894, courtesy of George Ellis, Salv ation Army Archives, Melbourne.

1890 bv a lengthy ministry at the Ballarat “Prison Gate Home” (repatriation scheme).15 There, on 21 January 1891, his young wife succumbed to heart disease, leaving him with three small children: Eva (b. 1885), Orrie (b. 1888) and Reg (b. 18 9 0 ).16 Compassionate leave and renewed activity in his photographic hobby helped him to recover. To supplement the Ballarat home’s in­ come, he set up a commercial photo studio there.1” A “bi-unial” projector with a gas-heated lime block (“limelight” ) illuminant was acquired with the intention of screening advertising slides on Saturday evenings in Ballarat’s streets.18 Frank Barritt visited by chance and recognized its potential for advertising Booth’s Melbourne lectures in September 1 8 9 1 .19 Perry was sent to Melbourne with his projector, and the successful advertising experiment induced Barritt to explore its possibilities further. A trial lecture tour, explaining Booth’s social work text, In D arkest E ngland, with around 50 slide illustrations, was inaugurated at South Melbourne by Commissioner Thomas Coombs on 26 December 189 1.20 The tour continued north along Australia’s Eastern seaboard early in 1892, clearing a healthy profit through admission charges. After this demonstration of viability, on 11 June 1892 Perry CINEMA

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was officially appointed as the equipment operator of lecturer Barritt’s venture, and the Salvation Army’s Limelight Depart­ ment was launched.21

B efore F i l m

Above: One of Perry’s earliest narrative productions was the slide set A D aughter o f Ishm ael (c. 1894) dealing with illegitimacy, alcoholism and finally murder - the case study of a woman named O’Donahue, gaoled for murder and finally reclaimed by the Salvation Army. Photo from the booklet A Daughter o f Ishm ael, courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. Below: Perry’s tri-unial lantern of July 1896 replaced his original outfit destroyed in New Zealand in May 1896. Mechanically-articulated slides, with the operating cranks visible at lower right, provided simple animation effects on the screen. From W ar Cry (Melbourne), 25 July 1896, p. 3, courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne.

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Its shows typically included views of life in the slums juxtaposed with pictures of Salvation Army remedial activity, portraits of prominent Army personnel, a “lantern reading” (an illustrated moral tale, often told in rhyme) and perhaps a few kaleidoscopic effects slides (chromatropes) to amuse the children.22 Audience participation was encouraged through the singing of illustrated songs and hymns, accompanied by the usual Salvation Army brass and timbrel combinations. Imported slides initially pre­ dominated, but they were gradually supplemented by Perry’s own photos taken on Australasian tours.22 These presentations of visual narratives had already reached a surprising level of sophistication. Mechanical contrivances on the projectors permitted transitional effects later adopted in motion picture practice, including fades, wipes and dissolves. Rudimentary animation was provided by photographing suc­ cessive phases of story action in front of an unchanging setpiece, then showing consecutive images with connecting dissolves.24 Mechanically articulated slides could animate the image more directly, showing a ship bobbing in a choppy sea or the rotating sails of a windmill.25 Superimposition was used to present falling snow over the death scene of The Little M atch G irl, or lightning and floating angels in the Ja n e C onquest shipwreck.26 The dramatic effect of Christ’s bleeding at the Crucifixion was produced by gradually superimposing a pattern of red stains onto the projected image. Many transparencies were handcoloured to enhance their realism and impact. Sets of “life model” slides with actors posing on studio sets were the stylistic antecedent of the narrative feature film. Perry exhibited many scriptural life-model series, and non-religious sets based on the 1 870s ballads of George R. Sims, such as B illy’s R ose.2~ These had melodramatic images of the suffering poor with narration underscoring their pathos in rhyme. Perry pro­ duced a few narrative slide sets himself, including Are The C olours Safes' (c. 1896), and A D aughter o f Ishm ael (c. 1894), showing the Army’s reclamation of a murderess.28 Apart from “softening up” an audience before passing around the collection plate, these must have given Perry the grounding in visual narrative construction necessary for his later film work. In 1 893, Barritt returned to his native England. Control of the Limelight Department passed to Perry for the next 17 years.29 In the same year Perry remarried, this time to Captain Julia Lear, who bore him a further son and three daughters before 1 9 0 6 .’° Mrs Perry shared her husband’s enthusiasm for the limelight venture, and in partnership their tours became more extensive. By the end of 1894, Perry had toured 30,000 miles, delivering more than 500 lectures in Salvation Army Halls and in the city streets around Australasia, returning £ 2000 profit to Army revenue.’1 By 1896 he assembled a collection of 4,000 slides. ’2 Slide lectures were common in Christian ministry during the 1890s, with a burgeoning British industry supplying sets and narration booklets. The unique aspect of Perry’s venture was its expanding scale. By the turn of the century, his outfit was unsurpassed, its tours ranging more widely and with more operators than anything similar in Australasia. Three months into a New Zealand tour on 1 May 1896, Perry suffered a setback which proved to be a blessing in disguise. At Marton (near Wanganui in the North Island), a fire originating in a cabinet maker’s shop spread to the Salvation Army bar­ racks. Perry’s entire limelight plant and projector outfit was destroyed.’’’ He returned to his Melbourne headquarters to re-

Above: “Commandant” Herbert Henry Booth (1862-1926), son of the Salvation Army’s founder and director of Australasian operations September 1896 - October 1901. The Commandant’s vision and literary ability expanded Limelight Department operations during his local administration. Photo courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. Right: Perry’s first movie projector, purchased late in February 1897, was this Watson’s “Motorgraph” combined camera-projector. From Australian P hotographic Jo u rn a l, 20 February 1897, p. 47, courtesy of Meg Labrum, NFSA, Canberra.

equip the Limelight Department. Within two months, Perry was back on the road with a “triunial” lantern and gas retort, greatly superior to the original.’’4 The technology was rapidly improving, not only in gas retorts and slide projectors, but in the imminently commercial motion pictures. Right opposite the Limelight Department’s Bourke Street building, peepshow kinetoscopes introduced movies to Melbourne in March 1895.” Journals rife with reports of movie projection induced Perry to include it in his refurbishment plans.

H erbert B o oth When Australasia’s new Salvation Army Commandant, Herbert Henry Booth (1862-1926), arrived in September 1896, he “saw at a glance that the living pictures, worked in conjunction with life-model slides, would provide a combination unfailing in its power of connecting narrative”36. The charismatic Comman­ dant, the headstrong youngest son of Salvation Army founder William Booth, enthusiastically used his personal power to give Perry staff and finance. With Commandant Booth’s literary ability linked to Perry’s lecture aids, the Limelight Department emerged as a powerful force for altruistic propaganda. An anonymous Salvation Army writer stated in 1901 that “when the first kinematographe was shown in Melbourne, [Booth] sent for Major Perry, the operator, to make enquiries concerning it, the result being that, at a very early date, an up-todate instrument was purchased [for the Army].” ’ Until now, historians have taken this to imply that they saw Carl Hertz’s film shows at the Melbourne Opera House38, but Perry was not in Melbourne during Hertz’s exhibitions.39 It is more likely that the passage relates to displays of the first film projector offered fo r sale in Melbourne. The earliest film projector advertised for sale ex-stock from an Australian supplier was the British “Motorgraph” from W. Watson and Sons of 78 Swanston Street, Melbourne, in February 1897.40 It was a small machine offered for 12 guineas and intended for amateur use. Accessories were available to convert it into a camera when required, and demonstrations of it were given on request at the Swanston Street depot by the photo­ graphic expert H. H. Baker.41

On 20 February 1897, the War Cry gave the first indication that Perry had a movie projector which he soon intended to demonstrate.42 The earliest known photograph of Perry’s cine gear appeared in the War Cry on 21 August 1897, showing a Watson’s Motorgraph and a Wrench cinématograph.4’’ The latter was not advertised in Australia until 2 1 July 1 8 9 744, so that the Motorgraph was almost certainly Perry’s first projector - an inexpensive machine on trial.

T r ia l T ours w it h F il m On a Friday evening in March 1897, the staff at the Salvation Army’s Melbourne headquarters were given a private exhibition of the “Motorgraph”, with about a dozen one-minute French films.4' While Perry projected Parisian street and railway scenes, military parades, river boat traffic, a seaside tableau and a “billposter’s dispute”, Booth announced plans for acquiring production and processing equipment.46 Exhibition tours de­ layed those plans for several months. Salvation Army film exhibition was not confined to Australia. In England, Adjutant Henry Howse acquired a Lumière cinématographe for fund-raising purposes in March 1 897, but he apparently had no production facilities until about 1903.4 Salvation Army missionaries in Java gave “ limelight and kinematographe” exhibitions as early as 1901.4S Brigadier Edward J. Parker of the American Salvation Army made and exhibited films from about 1903.49 In the following year, Swedish Salva­ tionists used film shows to raise social work funds.'0 Australian Below: It moves! Film subjects were irrelevant to the earliest movie audiences. T he earliest known Limelight Department poster, c. 1897, from the Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne, courtesv of George Ellis.

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street scene filmed “after many exceedingly difficult experi­ ments”''1. Only a couple of films of Salvation Army activity were finished when, a week later, Perry left on a long exhibition tour of New South Wales and Queensland. Christmas 1897 saw Perry recalled to Melbourne by Booth, the Queensland tour being completed by Adjutant James Dutton (1864-1942), on the first of his many Limelight Department assignments.'

1 8 9 8 : S e r io u s P r o d u c t i o n B e g in s With Perry’s ability to produce films confirmed, Booth threw his full weight behind the expansion of the enterprise. Perry was ordered to supervise the construction of a glass-walled studio on the flat roof between two stairwells behind their Melbourne headquarters. Inside the stairwell spaces on either side of it, he installed the Limelight Department’s office and darkroom.'8 By February 1898, the completed studio was equipped with Perry’s first profession al cine camera, a superb Lumière cinématographe.'9 Two full-time assistants, Joe Williams and Walter Rumble, were assigned to prepare life-model slides and films, and to tour exhibiting them afterwards/'0 Dutton and Edwin Bishop also occasionally served as projectionists. A scenic painter was kept busy working on the 30 or 40 studio backgrounds needed for each life-model slide set/1' To record Army music and speeches, Perry acquired the first of nine wax cylinder phonographs in April 18 9 8.62 It relieved touring projectionists from the need for incessant lecturing. Within a year, they had 250 records, mostly cut by Limelight Department staff/1’1 In months, the value of LimelightrDepartment plant rose from £100 to £ l 0 0 0 M, and the studio became Australia’s production centre until 1907, when other producers caught up. Today, few people know the original function and significance of the glasswalled room on the top floor behind the Melbourne City Temple.

S o c ia l S a l v a t io n Above top: Ferry and his outfit from W ar Cry (Melbourne), 21 August 1897, p. 8. Oldest surviving photo of an Australian film producer and his gear. The Watson’s “Motorgraph” is on the tripod at centre; Wrench film projector and 60 foot film reels arc on the table. “Still" cameras and tri-unial slide projector also shown. Courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. Bottom: Perry’s glass-walled studio of February 1898, its glass roof now covered by corrugated iron, was built between two stairwells on the roof behind the Melbourne Salvation Army Temple at 69 Bourkc Street. The darkroom was on the right of this studio, the Limelight Department office on the left. The centre of Australian film production until 1907 and now surrounded by high-rise office blocks, the studio is one of Melbourne’s least-known historical sites. Courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne.

Salvation Army films were shown in some of those countries and may survive there.'1However, none of those ventures approached the structured scale of Australia’s Limelight Department, with its five-year lead in screen entertainment prior to its usage of film. Perry’s public movie screenings began at the start of a Western Australian trial tour at Albany on 4 April 1897.52 The French films, integrated with their usual slide entertainment, attracted capacity audiences simply through the novelty of the medium. Fremantle’s Town Hall was packed on four consecutive April nights, adding £100 to Salvation Army revenue.'’1Perry success­ fully continued through Perth, Geraldton and the Coolgardie goldfields before returning to Melbourne in June 1 8 9 7 .'4 Booth, however, remained dissatisfied, feeling that film could only be fully useful in illustrating Army activities. Back at headquarters during July and August, Perry built a continuous-contact film printer with an electric illuminant", but exhibition commitments in rural Victoria again delayed comple­ tion of processing facilities. Finally, on 9 October 1897, the War Cry announced Perry’s first successful production, a Melbourne 38 . C I N E M A

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Booth’s studio development was motivated by his need for pictorial evidence of Salvation Army achievement to illustrate lectures. Mrs Booth chose to use only slides for her slum lectures'", but Herbert Booth used the full “triple alliance” of slides, films and phonograph records. His social work lecture, written after consultation with Perry, was the first long film and slide presentation fully produced by the Salvation Army, and it included Australia's first acted narrative films. I he Lumière cinématographe used for this and for Booth’s subsequent lecture, Soldiers o f the Cross (L900), had an absolute maximum film capacity of about 100 feet, set by the size of its magazine and its lack of a feed sprocket. It could not shoot or project films longer than 90 seconds.'1'1Films and slides had to be alternated in presentation, with no continuous film action exceed­ ing 90 seconds and no two film segments being shown without a break between them. This absolute restriction on the length of their films remained until Warwick Bioscopes replaced the Lime­ light Department’s Lumière machines early in 1901/7 Booth’s social work lecture and Soldiers o f the Cross were both pro­ grammes of short films and slides, not continuous feature films. Screenings of Salvation Army films were given by touring Limelight Department exhibitors from about February 1898.68 Booth’s first showing of some of these was at the Musical Festival at the Melbourne Exhibition Building on 29 March 1 898.69 However, Booth’s full social work lecture, linking the half dozen films and 100 slides into a cogent whole, premiered at the Sydney Town Hall on 11 July 1898. 0 It evolved as Perry shot new illustrations while touring as Booth’s projectionist, the narration

being modified accordingly. Scriptural subjects, illustrated hymns, songs and instrumental solos were interpolated to give the show variety. First shown as T he Commandant''s Lim elight L ectu re, it was later called The Salvation Army's Social W ork in Australasia (September 1898 -Ju ly 1 899), but most frequently it was known as Social Salvation (July 1899 - August 1901). In 1900, it was briefly called The Austral U nderw orld to match the title of Booth’s 1900 social work report, which reproduced some of the narration. By then, the two-and-a-half-hour lecture mixed 275 slides of social work buildings, personnel and plant with 25 oneminute films of activity within those institutions - and in the Salvation Army generally. 1 As the lecture evolved, it tended to use staged archetypal case studies like “Bayswater Bob”, a lad who falls in with bad company, commits petty crimes and lands in the Salvation Army’s Bayswater Boys’ Home. 2 There he trains as a farmer and re-enters society as a productive citizen. Another episode showed an unmarried mother attempting suicide and being sent to the Salvation Army Maternity Home.

Above: Expanding Limelight Department staff, August 1898: Staff Captain Williams, Staff Captain Perry, Lieutenant Rumble. Courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. Refer: The Victoiy (Melbourne), August 1898, p. 304.

Booth’s lecture differed from contemporary slide entertain­ ments of “picturesque” slum life, which tended to assure audi­ ences that the wretchedness of the poor was self-induced. They were left to feel appalled but not culpable. 5 Booth, on the other hand, challenged his audience to assist in combating slum condi­ tions, financially and spiritually. His work had a parallel in the better known slum photography of Jacob Riis, whose American book, H ow the O ther H a lf Lives (1890), was a model of its type. 4 Sadly, few of Booth’s social work lecture illustrations survive today. Until recently, only poorly reproduced stills in the War Cry and in Booth’s 1900 social work report, The Austral U nderw orld, were known. In 1985, Army archivist George Ellis achieved a breakthrough by finding albums of Perry’s social work photographs in London. These have since been returned to the Salvation Army Archives in Melbourne. A few short strips of three of the films were reproduced in the Salvation Army’s monthly magazine, The Victory, in August 1898. ’ These were recently animated and included in the author’s NFSA video Federation Films (1991), which also includes a short version of a Salvation Army social work lecture recorded by founder William Booth in 1906. Commandant Herbert Booth and Joe Perry used the lure of biograph entertainment to catch their audience off-guard when the serious usage of film was quite unexpected. It was a new departure in film usage, clever propaganda, incisive documen­ tary, and completely unprecedented anywhere in the world. Booth’s social work lecture was the genesis of ambitious Salva­ tion Army production, much more worthy of study than its successor Soldiers o f the Cross.

O ther 1 9 t h - C entury A r m y F il m s The Limelight Department shot film for propaganda, patronage and profit. Simple street scenes of Australian capital cities were filmed before l 900 and are vaguely mentioned in the surviving literature. Left: Illustrations from the article “The Triple Alliance" from the Salvation Army magazine The V ictoiy, August 1898. This review of the Limelight Department’s activities was written shortly after an important Salvation Army congress featuring the new media and three of the Army’s earliest Lumicre gauge films were reproduced with the text. In two of these film strips, the Melbourne Exhibition Buildings can be recognized. This was the congress venue. The third was taken in Erin Street, Richmond. Courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne.

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Far left: First Limelight Department film commission featured the Second Victorian Boer War Military Contingent departing Melbourne for South Africa, 13 January 1900. Left: Concluding slide from Social Salvation (1899): “The last scries of pictures showed a girl leaving her mother’s home in the country going to service with a family in Melbourne. She finds her way to the Maternity Home of the Salvation Army in Brisbane, where she dies and is buried by officers of the Army.” Refer: R ockham pton B ulletin, 25 October 1899, pp. 7-8, The slide was reproduced in Australasian P hotographic R eview , 21 January 1899. Courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne.

Perry personally did Salvation Army filming while they had only one Lumière camera. Williams, Dutton and Rumble mostly toured independently of Perry and appear to have shot no film. After 1899, Williams leftthe Limelight Department for a Townsville posting , and Rumble transferred to the Training Homes division. Limelight Department staff were augmented by Robert Sandali (who later wrote parts of the Army’s official history), Charles Bensley (who died in 1903), Sidney Cook (later a Queensland film pioneer), Walter Haworth and the woman lecturer Annie Hutchinson. Perry acquired a second Lumière camera and trained these operators in film production. Sandali, Dutton and particu­ larly Sidney Cook shot film prolifically afterwards. In January 1900, the Limelight Department began to accept commissions to shoot film for external organizations. Their first commission was coverage of Victoria’s Second Boer War Contin­ gent departing for South Africa, the film being used at a Mel­ bourne Town Hall patriotic concert to raise fighting funds."s When state governments wanted to have Australia’s Federation festivities filmed in 1901, commissions became a major source of Limelight Department revenue, allowing them to make Austral­ ia’s first feature-length documentaries. 9

L im e l ig h t D e p a r tm e n t F ilm s B efore ‘ S o l d ie r s of t h e C r o s s ’ In January 1899, Perry claimed that he had “taken some seventy or eighty subjects for the kinematograph”,S(), but Booth’s social work lectures of the time advertised 12 or 15 films at the most.,sl Confusion is further aggravated by press reviews mistaking films for narrative slide sequences, and by the lack of fixed Salvation Army film titles. Army literature sheds little light on the films, as it concentrated on religious matters and only reviewed religious productions like Sol­ diers o f the Cross in detail. All of this has distorted the perception of Salvation Army production, with many ac­ counts referring to Soldiers o f the Cross as a “film” (which it never was), and ignoring everything else. To rectify this matter systematically, Limelight Depart­ ment tour itineraries were extracted from the War Cry, and these were used to locate advertisements and reviews of their shows in local newspapers. The resultant aggregate list of their early films is incomplete, but provides improved insights Below: Film 6: Melbourne ‘Metropole’ Woodyard: the Unemployed Chopping Wood for their Keep (May 1898). Staff Captain Joe Williams of the Limelight Department supervises operations on the right. From Perry album of Social Institution photos. Courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. 40 • C I N E M A

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on the breadth of their activity. All of their pre-1901 films ran for less than two minutes: 1.

Melbourne Street Scene No details known. Perry’s first film. Earliest known refer­ ence: War Cry (Melbourne), 9 October 1897, p. 4.

2.

Club Drill (shot c. October 1897) Club swinging exercise by Salvation Army youngsters in Melbourne. Might be the film strip reproduced in The Victory (Melbourne), August 1898, p. 302. Earliest known reference: W arw ick E xam iner and Tim es (Queensland), 15 January 1898.

3.

Collingwood Juniors (shot c. October 1897) Salvation Army children from Collingwood Corps, Mel­ bourne. Section of film possibly reproduced in The Victory (Melbourne), August 1898, p. 302. Earliest known refer­ ence: W arwick E xam iner an d Tim es (Queensland), 15 Janu­ ary 1898.

4.

Salvation Army Musical Festival March (shot 29 March 1898) Herbert Booth leading the costumed choirs in parade outside the Melbourne Exhibition Building during the Salvation Army’s Intercolonial Congress. It was rushed through process­ ing and shown at the Staff Councillors’ meeting which concluded the Congress. Nine frames reproduced in The Victory, August 1898, p. 30 1. Earliest known reference: War

Cry (Melbourne), 16 April 1898, p. 5. 5.

Herbert Booth’s Visit to Bayswater Boys’ Home, Vic. (series, shot 13 April 1898) A series of films showing aspects of work at Bayswater farm, “The Eden”, including: a. Booth with the children. b. The boys at gymnastic exercises. c. Boys in cross-cut saw competition. d. Sheep jumping over fences surrounding their pens. Phonograph records of the boys were also cut during this visit. Earliest known refer­ ence: W ar Cry (Melbourne), 16 April 1898, p. 5.

6.

Melbourne ‘M etropole’ Woodyard: the Unemployed Chopping Wood for their Keep Staff Capt. Joe Williams (Limelight De­ partment Officer and Metropole Manager) supervising unemployed “cadgers” earn­ ing their breakfast. The Metropole was the forerunner of the “People’s Palace” in King Street, Melbourne. A “still” of this scene survives in the Perry album of social institution photos, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. Earliest known reference: W ar Cry (Melbourne), 21 May 1898, p. 4.

7.

Salvation Army Woman Cadets Setting Off to Sell the W ar Cry (c. May 1898) Shot outside the Women’s Garrison in Erin Street, Richmond (present site of Epworth Hospital). Nine frames were repro­ duced in T he V ictory, August 1898, p. 303. Earliest known reference: War Cry (Melbourne), 21 May 1898, p. 4.

8.

A Hungry Man Stealing Bread and His Arrest By Police (c. May 1898)

9.

Prison Gate Brigade Welcoming Released Prisoner at the Gaol Gates (c. May 1898) Films 8 and 9 were the first fictional narrative movies shot in Australia, and the first ‘multi reel’ production, intended for screening in succession. Earliest known reference: War Cry (Melbourne), 21 May 1898, p. 4.

10. The Masher’s Downfall (c. July 1898) Young man in high-class garb ‘chats up’ a girl outside a pieshop. Two Salvation Army women interrupt the seduction. One marches the girl away while the other “belabored the man with her umbrella and left him lying upon the footpath”. Earliest known reference: T he Age (Melbourne), 2 August 1898.

Above: Film 1 lc: Pakenham Girls’ Home, Victoria. Greeting Commandant Booth, c. September 1898. The film was accompanied by phonograph records of the girls. From Perry album of Social Institution photos. Courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, iMelbournc.

A series of films showing activities of the girls at the Pakenham farm home, including: a. Girls doing drill exercises. b. Feeding poultry. c. Girls greeting the visit of Commandant Booth. The last film was accompanied by songs and cheers recorded on a phonograph. See South Australian Register, 20 Decem­ ber 1 898. Earliest known reference: Albury D aily N ew s, 13 September 1898. 12. Maori Scenes (probably at Otaki), New Zealand (series, shot c. 2 December 1898) “Two or three films” were shot by Perry and Booth touring New Zealand with the social work lecture. En route Welling­ ton to New Plymouth by train, a stop was made at Otaki where they were met by a Maori Salvation Army contingent, probably the subject of the films. Only one film was made in New Zealand before this, O pening o f the A u ckland E x h ibi­ tion , shot by A. H. Whitehouse on the previous day. Refer: War Cry (Melbourne), 10 December 1898, p. 9. Earliest known reference to Maori films: Australasian P hotographic R eview , 21 January 1899, p. 2.

11. Pakenham Girls’ Home, Victoria (series, shot c. September 1898)

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MÂStll 0 ? IMI

Le Giornate del Cinema Muto 12TH PORDENONE SILENT FILM FESTIVAL 9-16 OCTOBER 1993 G RA HA M

S H I R L E Y

(1959) and T ru ffa u t’s La N uite A m é rica in e {D a y

and film restoration specialist as well as co ­

F o r Night, 1973). The following year Jacob and

w in n e r (with Jonathan Dennis) of the F estival’s

Patat began their own film club, which su b s e ­

1993 Jean Mitry Award, Pordenone “takes the

quently became a library, La Cineteca del Friuli.

chains off the film bibles th ro u g h o u t the world.

In 1982, La Cineteca joined forces with the

There are all kinds of films I had no idea were

primary interest is the silent cinema, Le Gior­

Pordenonefilm club Cinemazero (founded 1978)

important until I saw them h e re .”

nate del C inema Muto (Pordenone Silent Film

to screen a rich collection of Max Linder c o m ­

T h ro u g h o u t Italy there are m any rem inders

Festival) is sublime. Every October since 1982,

edies at P o rd e n o n e ’s Verdi Cinema. Italian film

of an active film culture enabling a festival like

five hundred or so people have converged on

historians attending this Festival suggested that

Pordenone to flourish. At a bookshop in M ila no’s

the Italian town of Pordenone in the Regione

it be run as an annual event, encouraging the

Galleria Vittorio E m m a n u e le II, I lost count of

Friuli (Italy’s north-east) to immerse them selves

new alliance to run a Mack S ennett retro sp e c­

the nu m b e r of film books published exclusively

in seven days of cinem a m uto produced b e ­

tive the following year. The P ordenone Silent

in Italian. Nestling beside books on talents as

tween the origins of cinema in the 1890s and

Film Festival was born, and from 1984 its o r­

different as Federico Fellini, Edgar G. Ulmer,

the final days of the silent era in the late 1920s.

ganizers were joined by Paolo Cherchi Usai, a

W o o d y Allen and the Italian co m e d ia n /s in g e r

Seated in the to w n ’s 1200-seat C inema Verdi,

student vo lunteer at an archive in G e m o n a .1

Toto was a new m o nograph on Jane C ampion,

F

or the film buff, archivist or historian whose

they have been able to see beautifully printed

The most visible presence in the town of

and tinted restorations screened with piano or

P ordenone are the elegantly -groom ed young in

orchestral accom panim ent, and with tra n sla ­

their late teens and early twenties who pack the

Pordenone Festival’s Paolo Cherchi Usai c o m ­

tions, if necessary, into their own language.

streets and shopping plazas each evening to

mented that what I saw was just the tip of the iceberg. Italy was fam ous until a few years ago

while published screenplays - again entirely in Italian -

packed the a djacent shelves. The

Between sessions, they have swarm ed into the

prom enade and socialize. And it was the young

surrounding cafés and bars to trade the kind of

of P ordenone who were the most avid of the

as one of the w o rld ’s most prolific publis hers of

inform ation that is unique to film buffs, histori­

1993 silent Festival’s first-night audience when

film books, linked to the fact that reading about

ans, researchers and collectors. For, above all

popular European new age/avant garde c o m ­

film was one of the co u n try’s most fashionable

else, Pordenone is an e n th u sia st’s festival, one

poser and pianist Wim Mertens accom panied

intellectual pursuits, particularly am ong s tu ­

in which a great proportion of the audience sits

Louis D elluc’s La Fem m e De N ulle P a rt{France,

dents.

in rapt attention daily from 9 am to 1 am the next

1922) and The Lan d B e yo n d the S u n se t (Harold

Pordenone began at a time of massive growth

morning. Only in the final couple of days do

Shaw, U.S., 1912). As Mertens bounded from

in Italian cinem a clubs and art houses. In the

faces start to look pasty and a shower of sneezes

the orchestra pit to take bow after bow. my

early 1980s such growth was a by-product of an

signals physical burnout just as audibly as the

am a ze m e nt grew at the realization that films 70

Italian television revolution when the a lm o s t3 0 -

so und of transla tor battery packs crashing to

and 80 years old could play a central rôle in so

year m onopoly of g o v e rn m en t television was

much euphoria. There was to be plenty more

broken by the a p p e arance of private stations.

the floor when sleeping heads topple forward. The P ordenone Silent Film Festival had its genesis in May 1976, when an earthquake

evidence of this before the week was out.

Many regular cinem as closed but a continuin g

While torches flickered glo w-w orm style as

hunger for film brought an upsurge in the number of cinema art houses, clubs and festivals. In

devastated the Friuli region and levelled many

people jotted down their screening notes, there

small mediaeval towns including Venzone and

was a keen sense of a new generation of e x ­

G enova alone, a population of 800,0 0 0 was

Gem ona. With m any of the re gion’s theatres

plorers choosing to rediscover what most of the

able to sustain 13 art houses, 10 of which were

destroyed and the local population living in

20th Century has chosen to ignore. The formula

second-run theatres. Because of factors in­

tents, university students Livio Jacob and Piera

for this is an expert blend of them es and trends

cluding dom estic video, a u diences for this kind

Patat screened them a series of films including

spanning the entire history of the silent cinema.

of outlet have since declined. G e n o va now only

H itch co ck’s I C onfess (1953), Hawks' Rio Bravo

In the words of David Shepherd, film teacher

has two clubs presenting a more restricted fare.

42 . C I N E M A

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In recent years the th e m e s presented at

In 1991, Dennis established that the a r­

wartime public and its arm ed forces. A selection

Pordenone have included pxe-C aU gariG erman

chives of Canberra and W ellington would be

of the P in schew er cartoons was screened at

cinema, the output of the Eclair and Vitagraph

able to send films to P ordenone in 1993. Having

Pordenone in 1990.

studios, the W alt Disney silents, and a Frank

been engaged by the P ordenone Festival as a

The Australian features pro g ra m m e d for

In this, the tw e lfth

consultant, he then began p review ing with

P ordenone ’93 were a mixture of the expected

Pordenone Festival, the main them es were a

Cherchi Usai. Both were aware of the need to

- Long fo rd ’s The W oman S uffers (1918), The

celebration of the ye a r 1913, a retrospective of

have the Australian choices balance what was

S e n tim e n ta l B loke { 1919) and On O ur S election

the work of American silent director Rex Ingram,

being chosen from New Zealand, emphasizing

(1920) - and choices in line with the Festival’s

a profile of Australian and New Z eala nd silent

the differences and similarities betw een the two

reputation for avoiding the revered classics to

cinema, and a tribute to the A merican comedian

countries without repeating themes.

d isc o v e rfilm s otherwise little known. N e ve rth e ­

B o rzage re tro s p e c tiv e .

Charley Chase. A ccording to Paolo Cherchi

Historically, of course, Australian silent fe a ­

less, two in the latter category, Jungle Woman

Usai, the Festival, guided by “naive cu rio sity” ,

tures had been far more num erous than those

(Frank Hurley, 1926) and The B irth o f White

always aims to show what they have never

of New Zealand - a reason for the balance

A u stra lia (Phil K. Walsh, 1928), were the kind of

shown before. Eighty per cent of the films are

betw een the Australian features and the New

films which the NFSA, and certainly this writer,

chosen on the basis of print quality, innovative

Z ealand shorts screened in ’93 at Pordenone.

would norm ally have thought twice about p ro ­

technique, innovative style and potential in ter­

But the main reason, according to Dennis, that

gram ming for an event like this. Paolo Cherchi

est for a non-specialist audience. The a u d i­

New Zealand was represented entirely by “short

Usai said he pro gram m ed B irth as a “ racist

ence, Cherchi Usai continued, now trusts the

local, regional, primarily actuality films" was

testam ent chosen to represent the culture of

program m ers “but five years ago they needed

because the estate of New Z e a la n d ’s pre -e m i­

Australia at that p e riod” - certainly a p ro vo ca ­

nent silent director Rudall Hayward has not

tive act as evidenced by the loud booing that

allowed his features to be preserved and re­

followed the Pordenone screening. What I found

persuading” . Itw a s th re e y e a rs a g o , in 1990, that Jonathan Dennis, silent-era film enthusiast and founding

stored or publicly screened for many years.

personally challenging was the absence of a

director of the New Z eala nd Film Archive, made

In Australia, D ennis and Cherchi Usai viewed

whole list of Australian silents usually regarded

his first visit to Pordenone. W atching the huge

across a span of six days. Dennis recalls the

as key works - Franklyn Barrett’s The B reaking o f the D ro u g ht (1920) and A G irl o f the Bush (1 9 2 1 ) , the M cDonagh sisters’ The F ar P a ra ­ dise (1928) and

The C heaters (1929), Tal

O rdell’s The K id S takes (1927) and Norman D a w n ’s F o rth e Term o f H is N atu ra l Life (1927). In response to questions about this, Cherchi Usai said that 1993 was simply the first year that Pordenone would run Australian films, and there is a good chance that The B reaking o f the D ro u g h t will be pro gram m ed in the near future. It was a curious, at times unnerving, e xp e ri­ ence to watch the N F S A ’s newly-struck and beautifully-tinted prints of The S entim ental Bloke and On O u r S election with a non-Australian a udience.2 If ever o n e ’s feeling for the gut reaction of an audience was fine-tuned, it was here at Pordenone. I have seen both films work to their best capacity with Australian audiences, but while On O ur S election impressed some at Pordenone for its docum entary impact, it left others cold by looking too detached and epi­ sodic. The S entim ental B loke fared better, al­ though again not in the unanimous way it usually does in Australia. It took a while for the a u d i­ ence to realize that this was indeed a comedy. FACING PAGE: POSTER OF THE 12TH PORDENONE SILENT

The realization, helped by Neil B ra n d ’s skilful

FILM FESTIVAL. ABOVE: TEATRO CINEMA VERDI, WHERE THE

process: “We watched all the established clas­

FESTIVAL WAS HELD.

sics, th um bed through the books and asked for

accompaniment, clicked at the moment in which

films that h a d n ’t been su g g e s te d .” A ustra lia ’s

the love-smitten Bloke (Arthur Tauchert) d a y ­

number of p re -C a lig a ri German films screened

National Film & Sound Archive (NFSA) began

dreams of his girlfriend D oreen’s face over a

that year, he was struck by the fact that New

to express surprise at some of the programming

freshly-hewn pumpkin. The greatest mirth was

Zealand and Australian silent films had fo l­

selections and omissions. Dennis continues:

reserved for the B lo ke ’s intertitles, widely a p ­

lowed an interesting path in their own right.

“The process was one filled with many lively

preciated despite fears that they would not be

Reviewing the 1990 Festival fo r th e FIAF (Inter­

discussio ns on what should be shown, during

understood.

national Federation of Film Archives) bulletin,

which we tried to extend beyond the notion of

Dennis alluded to the fact that during the course

showing only established classics.”

Surprisingly, since I’d been disappointed the first time I’d seen it, the Australian film that worked best at Pordenone was Longford’s The

of the Festival he had becom e tired of the

Among the Australian films traditionally given

dominance of North A m erican and European

scant attention were the World W ar I animated

W oman Suffers. It proved to be closer in feeling

cin e m a .

n o w on

cartoons made by Harry Julius for Australasian

to the well-upholstered European dramas that

Pordenone look at films from the rest of the

Gazette. Cherchi Usai, who likes Ju liu s’ work

dominated the Festival, sustaining a strong em o ­

world, e specially O ceania and Asia. On the

very much, com m ents on “a striking and almost

tional charge as it charted the plight of the film’s

appearance of this review, Festival organizers

eerie sim ilarity” betw een the work of Julius and

two seduced and abandoned women, played

contacted Dennis, with Cherchi Usai saying he

that of a World W ar I German cartoonist called

respectively by Evelyn Black and Lottie Lyell.

wanted to start previewing a selection of A u s ­

Julius Pinschewer. “ Extremely to the right” (a

The W oman S uffers shows a confident team of

tralian and New Zeala n d silents as soon as

charge that c a n ’t be levelled at Harry Julius),

filmmakers - Longford, Lyell and cameraman

P in s ch e w e r’s work was aimed at G e rm a n y ’s

Arthur Higgins - drawing the best from most of

possible.

He s u g g e s te d th a t fro m

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their characters and locations. The finale might

as some of the Australian items lacked. In the

was no sh ortage of generic diversity, from tales

totter into the ludicrous with its revelation of

first session, Maori co m m u n ity elder W itarina

of criminal exp o sé through to a ple th ora of

hidden parentage linking the second seducer to

Harris, in the co m p a n y of Jonathan Dennis,

w a n d e rin g or m u rd e ro u s ly p o sse ss iv e h u s ­

the mother of the seduced, but this is well within

used film to chart a journey through New Z e a ­

bands, resourceful heroines, and films with

conventions of the period, as evidenced by

land’s post-colonization history, e m phasizin g

ponderous stage routines redeem ed by cin­

Lawson Harris’ S unshine S ally (Australia, 1922)

the creative collaboration betw een Maori o n ­

ematic trickery. At least a cou p le of the o ffe r­

and Rex Ingram’s Scaram ouche.

screen subjects and P akeha (white) film m a k ­

ings had v is u a l a nd e d ito ria l a p p r o a c h e s

Marilyn Dooley and Jonathan Dennis had

ers. The 87-year-old Harris acco m p a n ie d the

tim eless enough to inspire film m a k e rs today.

written c o m p re h en sive short histories of the

seg m e n ts with Maori stories and songs, and

F oremost in innovation were two 1913 films

New Z ealand and Australian silent cinem as for

scenes of her dancing in out-takes from the

from America, Phillips S m a lle y’s Suspense, and

the booklet, A o te a ro a a n d the S e n tim e n ta l

feature The D e v il’s P jt (aka U n d e r the S outhern

D. W. G riffith’s The M o th e rin g H eart. The 12-

S trin e , ava ilable at the Festival. Even so, A u s ­

Cross, 1928) had a special poignancy. Am ong

minute S uspense is the more visually a d ve n tu r­

tralian docu m e n ta rie s being screened tended

the non-M aori offerings, Franklyn B a rre tt’s The

ous, show in g a m other and baby in a remote

to

fu rth e r

C oasts o f N ew Z e a la n d (c. 1910) stood out as

house under threat from a prowler. Especially

c o n te x tu a liz a tio n . T w o sh o rt e x tra c ts from

a gem for all time, glowing with sp ectacular

striking are a close-up of the p row le r filmed

Baldwin S p e n c e r’s 1912 Aboriginal footage,

images and a print as sharp as a new pin,

from above as he stares defiantly up at the

along with Frank H u rle y ’s feature-length H om e

com plete with original h a n d -c o lo u rin g /

lo o k

ra th e r

lo s t

w ith o u t

m o th e r w h o ’s spied him from a first flo o r w in ­

o f the B lizza rd (1913) and the Francis Birtles

P ordenone’s decision to profile the year 1913

and Torrance McLaren C oorab in the Isla n d o f

gave the a udience ample scope to im merse

husband on the phone as the prow le r enters the

G hosts ( 1929), were none of them exactly g rip­

itself in the styles and techniques of that p a r­

house; and, after the h usband has stolen a car

dow; a th re e -w a y split screen show in g wife and

ping as films, and would have been more a c­

ticular year. Am ong the reasons 1913 was c h o ­

to rush to the rescue, shots of a pursuing police

cessible with an introductory word o rtw o A O th e r

sen - apart from its co m m e m o ra tin g an 80-year

car reflected in a jolting side mirror. The M o th ­

films, including The S e n tim e n ta l Bloke, had the

span - was that it marked the start of film

e rin g Heart, screened to celebrate Lillian G is h ’s

advantage of a pre-screenin g talk, but o th e r­

production in Hollywood, the transition from

100th birthday (the actress died, aged 99, in February 1993), show s the effect on a marriage of a h u s b a n d ’s brief affaire with a w o m a n that he and his wife (Gish) have seen for the first time in a crow ded cabaret. C overage of the initial flirtation, all looks and smiles in full view of Gish, is built up to with a su ccession of shots that make the seduction and G is h ’s ensuing fury all the more palpable. Gish w rote in her mem oirs how she fo u g h t to play the role, then becam e co ncerned that she was over-acting until Griffith convinced her otherwise. Indeed, it is her underplaying and emotional truth that helps to give the film much of its potency, and it proved to be a milestone in her ca re e r.5 A no th e r film with a w anderin g husband, the new ly-restored Danish feature A tla n tis (August Blom, 1913), was one of the most pedantic yet also most haunting and admired films screened at Pordenone in ’93. At 127 minutes, it was the longest and most expensive d ram atized film made anyw here up to 1913, and its failure to penetrate the Am erican market was a major blow to Nordisk, its producer. The first 25 m in ­ utes or so, with a doctor trapped at home looking after his young children and a mentallydisturbed wife, creates an im pact that lingers. The wife in pa rticu la ris unnervingly well played,

JAMES MCDONALD'S HE PITO WHAKAATU I TE HUI I ROTORUA

short films to features, and the last year that an

adding fuel to the h u s b a n d ’s decision to follow

( SCENES AT THE ROTORUA HUI, 1920).

equilibrium had existed betw een the five s u p e r­

a fem ale d a ncer to America. When the dancer

wise the Festival wanted to minimize the number

powers of film - the U.S., France, Italy, D e n ­

loses interest, the doctor drifts increasingly

mark and, to a lesser extent, Germany. In 1913,

w ithout purpose, almost dying after news of his

of introductions, letting the films, w h e re ve r p o s ­

Chaplin's new contract with Mack Sennett led

w ife ’s death. In the final reel he is nursed back

sible, speak for themselves.

to the birth of his tramp character; Griffith left

to health by a nother wom an who, patiently and

A no th e r exception was made for the New

Biograph to plan The B irth o f a Nation-, and

over a span of months, has taken the initiative

Zealand films, which had the benefit of live

Victor Sjostrom began the golden age of S w e d ­

to court him.6

introductions and com m entaries. The two p ro ­

ish cinema with his first masterpiece, In g eborg

g ram m es of New Z ealand films - the first being

Holm. It was also the first year that F ra n c e ’s

1913 were two films portraying that period’s

a diverse collection under the title T re a su re d

F an to m a s ushered in a criminal genre that, with

white slave traffic. The first, George Loane T u c k ­

Im ages o f L ig h t from A o te a ro a /N e w Z e a la n d ,

variations, is with us still.

e r’s Traffic in Souls, was, because of its huge

the second being four series of ethnographic

The 1913 films screened at P ordenone dif­

Among the other American offerings from

success, one of the most influential of A m e rica ’s

films shot by Ja m e s M cD onald betw een 1919

fered in quality as far as could be imagined -

early feature-length story films. Inspired by the

and 1923 - were a delight. Well co-o rdin ate d

from the sublime, as with In g e b o rg H olm and

Rockefeller White Slavery Report and New York

and heartfelt events, they had an endearing

Leonce Perret’s L ’E n fa n t De P aris (France),

District Attorney W h itm a n ’s investigation into

spirit and lightness of touch which put New

through to the merely routine, with Lo tu s the

the Vice Trust, Traffic in S ouls was, according to

Z e a la n d ’s short films into as much perspective

Tem ple D a n c e r (L. A. Winkel, G ermany). There

Terry Ramsaye, produced without the knowl-

44 . C I N E M A

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jr

WËSSÊBIÈÊÈÉÈÊËÊm

/.

BUS

2 A SH ORT H IS TO RY OF NEW Z E A L A N D FILM: 1 9 7 7- 1994 17 GAYLEN E PRESTON: AN INTERVIEW 20 PETER J A C K S O N : A N INTERVIEW 31 ISSUES 39 MAORI CI NEMA 42 NEW Z E A L A N D FILM C OM M I S S I O N 44 PHIL PRYKE: A N INTERVIEW 47 LI NDSAY S H E L T O N : A N I N T E R V I E W A R T I C L E S & I N T E R V I E W S BY S C O T T M U R R A Y

ARTHUR THOMAS (JOHN HARGREAVES) AND VIVIEN THOMAS (DIANA ROWAN). JOHN LAING S BEYOND REASONABLE DOUBT (1981).

THE LATE 1970s When discussing film in New Zealand, it is perhaps a surprise to many foreigners th at Jane C am pion’s is not the name th at m ost com es up - or even the firs t. Undoubtedly, the m odern lexicon begins with Roger Donaldson and Geoff Murphy, moves on to Vincent Ward, and only recently takes in Campion and Peter Jackson. (If one looks at pre-1970s cinema, the tw o fig ures who to w e r la rg e st are Rudall Hayward and John O’Shea.1) To understand the im portance given to Donaldson’s and Murphy’s contributions, and the near reverence in which they are held, one has to go back to the firs t spark of the renascent New Zealand cinema. This is usually dated at 1977, the year Roger Donaldson’s S le e p in g D o g s and Geoff Murphy’s W ild M a n went into theatrical release.

WILD M AH riginally a school teacher and member of the Acme Sausage Company rock band, Geoff Murphy started working as a director, of shorts and documentaries, at the New Zealand Broadcasting Corporation (NZBC). His first feature, Wild Man, was in fact commissioned as a 50-minute episode of the Blerta television series. In a 1980 interview, Murphy recalled:

O

Wild Man was an opportunity seized. We had very little money and no time for script development, or any of those things necessary for making films. But we had a chance, so we went for it and got it. I think the film is remarkably successful within those parameters.2 Murphy writes in the excellent Film in A o tearo a N ew Z ealan d (1992): Wild Man was shot in 16mm and blown up to 35mm for release in 1977. [...] Film makers used all manner of deviousness and imagination to fund these films. Wild Man required very little. It was cheap, and it showed. It cost around $25,000 to make and about $30,000 to blow up to 35mm.3 John Barnett, the film’s executive producer, recalled: I looked at the rough cut and thought it was amusing, so we decided to stretch it out to 72 minutes [...] We then put a half-hour film [about] Fred Dagg4 in front of it, and put out [an] all-New Zealand film package. I took Wild Man in its 16mm rough-cut form to Amalgamated Theatres, who said they’d give it a go [...] We hoped the thing would run two weeks in Queen St, Auckland, but to everyone’s surprise it ran six. The program also ran throughout the country.5 Murphy: Although a few other films had achieved limited release through the independents, [this] was the first main street release of a New Zealand film for 11 years. To everyone’s astonishment, it took over $100,000 at the box office.6 [...] We lost about $8,000 which, in the context of New Zealand films, makes it very successful!"

POSTER FOR GEOFF MURPHY'S WILD M A N (1 9 7 7 ).

tary, O ff the E dge (1977), Tony Williams’ Solo (1978), the first Australia-New Zealand co-production, and W ild M an. Geoff Murphy, who did the special effects on Sleeping D ogs, recalled: Roger Donaldson managed, against all historical evidence, to persuade investors that Sleeping Dogs could make a profit. With the biggest budget, probably about $400,000, it was the most impressive of the four films. It was the strongest at the box office, taking nearly half a million [...] it seemed that New Zealand audiences could respond very positively to New Zealand films if they were pitched the right way. [...] Sleeping Dogs in particular showed there was energy and skill in the independent film industry, which if it could be harnessed might take us somewhere. They also demonstrated, by their performance at the box office, that a film industry could not exist without some form of patronage. We were too small. The going was just too tough. And so, for one fleeting moment in 1977, the independent film industry did get together. We formed the New Zealand Academy of Motion Pictures, and with the older generation led by Bill Sheat and John O’Shea lobbying government directly, we set about writing letters and articles to newspapers and politicians, holding public meetings and seminars, making press releases, sharpening SMITH (SAM NEILL) AND BULLEN (IA N MUNE). ROGER DONALDSON'S SLEEPING DO G S (1 9 7 7 ).

SLEEPING DOGS Roger Donaldson is Australian-born, but went to New Zealand at age 19 to sidestep the Vietnam draft. He has preferred to be known as a New Zealander ever since. At first a still photographer, then a director of television commercials and documentaries, Donaldson ventured into feature filmmaking with Sleeping D ogs, the story of totalitarian repression in a modern New Zealand. Just after production Donaldson said: I think Sleeping Dogs has something important to say. Civil liberties are declining fast in many parts of the world. Although they don’t all suffer from events as violent as those in the movie, there have been plenty of indications in the last few years that New Zealand is becoming a constricted democracy. If Sleeping Dogs has a lesson, it is that we should be aware of giving anyone too much power in the belief that he [or she] won’t abuse it.8 Sleeping D ogs was one of four New Zealand films widely and successfully released in 1977-78, along with Michael Firth’s Academy Award-nominated documen4 • CINEMA

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up our arguments and generally preparing to do battle for the establishment of a film commission for the funding of feature films.9

HEW ZEALAN D FILM COM M ISSION All the lobbying paid off when, in October 1977, the Interim Film Commission was established by Arts Minister Alan Highet. One year later, the New Zealand Film Commission was formed by act of parliament, and opened its doors on 13 November. Bill Sheat, a lawyer and former Chairman of the Arts Council, was made the N ZFC’s first Chairman. The Commission’s legislated function was, and still is, to “encourage, and also to participate and assist in the making, promotion, distribution, and exhibition of film”. Bill Sheat recalled in 1980: Lots of people played a part in the long process of establishing the NZFC. I think we were very fortunate in having a sympathetic Minister for the Arts in Alan Highet, who was very receptive and was able to get the idea through on a Cabinet level. He was also instrumental in getting funding for the Commission from the Lottery Board. [...] We put up all the arguments [to government]. We certainly used the cultural one, and the whole question of national identity - the fact that our media were swamped with imported product and the need for New Zealanders to be able to identify with something of a New Zealand nature. We also advanced economic arguments. Luckily, at that time Sleeping Dogs and O ff the Edge had done surprisingly well at the box office, so we were able to talk in terms of import substitution, claiming that every seat that’s bought for a New Zealand film represents money that isn’t going out of the country. These are arguments that the government is very sensitive to in our current economic situation.10 This pivotal year, 1978, also saw the release of David Blyth’s Angel M ine, an erotic fantasy about an affluent couple and their wish-fulfilment world of black leather and punk music. (For a complete list of New Zealand features, see Chart 1, at end.) The next year, three films went into release: Geoff Steven’s Skin D eep, John Reid’s M iddle Age Spread and Paul Maunder’s Sons fo r the Return H om e. All had NZFC financial involvement (about $40 0 ,0 0 0 each), to a maximum of 50 per cent. Don Blakeney, the N Z FC ’s first executive director, said in 1980: On average, the Commission’s involvement has been between 40 and 45 per cent of cash budgets. Around 30 per cent has come from private investors early on, and the rest normally comes from some form of producer input - either through his own services and facilities, a facility company, or community involvement, such as a city which has thrown its streets open.11 The NZFC gave private investors priority on returns (inves­ tors received 70 per cent till break even; the NZFC 30% ), so that it was possible for the investors to recoup all their investment before the film went into profit. Even so, the future for long-term private investment was looking shaky. Blakeney: [...] while private investment is increasing, it’s getting harder to obtain. The financial community has wised up to the risks involved in film investment and, unless there is some off-shore and possibly some pre-sale money, it’s going to be harder to talk them into it.12

FROM THE TOP: FILMING SLEEPING DOGS: ACTOR SAM NEILL AND DIRECTOR ROGER DONALDSON; PRODUCER JOHN BARNETT IN 1 980; BILL SHEAT, FIRST CHAIRMAN OF THE NEW ZEALAND FILM COMMISSION, IN 1 98 0.

This certainly proved to be the case. John Barnett, for one, put down this late 1970s burst of features activity as “a direct result of frustration over not being able to get anything on local television [...] the lack of activity in the television business led me into feature film production.”13 Television had been a minor investor in New Zealand films (such as Sleeping D ogs), but the N Z FC ’s inception was a conven­ ient excuse for opting out totally. Barnett: If anything, it made television feel more entrenched. In fact, the day the NZFC was set up, the chairman of the television corpo­ ration said, in effect, that private filmmakers now had a fund to which they could go and the NZBC was now absolved of any responsibility of giving them money. The NZFC commissioners lobbied to change that situation, but the television administrators had very cunningly fooled the politicians who didn’t really understand the way finances work inside television.14 On the N Z FC ’s attempts to intervene, Sheat said: To say our approaches to broadcasting [were] disappointing is the most charitable way you could describe the situation. One of the earliest things the Commission did was to draw the attention of the stations to the fact that the number of programs they were commissioning from the film industry was virtually nil. The reaction was not positive at all.15 NEW

ZEALAND

SUPPLEMENT

•5

THE 1980s The 1 98 0 s began with g re a t uncertainty, buoyed by the form a tion of the NZFC but disappointed by the attitude of the NZBC and the lack of any substantial private investm ent. But things would change, and rapidly. Lawyers and investm ent bankers discovered ways to maximize tax breaks through investm ent in film s. As in Australia, there was a sudden m ushroom ing of product. In 1 982, only five features were made, but in 198 3 there were 12 and in 1 9 8 4 it peaked at 17 (see Chart 2). The New Zealand industry was also encouraged by the public success of such early 1 9 8 0 s film s as John Laing’s B e y o n d R e a s o n a b le D o u b t (1980), G o o d b y e P o r k P ie (Geoff Murphy, 1981) and S m a s h P a la c e (Donaldson, 1982). There were fine film s, too, th a t did less well, such as Mike Newell’s brooding, disturbing B a d B lo o d (1981). Others, like B a t t le t r u c k (Harley Cokliss, 1982), were classic tax film s and not overly m em orable. BEYOND REASONABLE DO UBT ohn Laing’s film is an effective recreation of the Arthur Allan Thomas case, where a farmer was wrongly convicted of murder. Australian author David Yallop had written a best-seller about the case in 1978, while Thomas was still in gaol. Producer John Barnett decided to make a film and stir up the controversy (as is oft Barnett’s wont!). But just before filming Thomas was pardoned. Barnett recalled:

J

It was an incredible feeling. Obviously it was highly desirable from [Thomas’] point of view, but we had developed a film [script] which was intended to leave people in an extremely angry state of mind. [...] I contacted Yallop, and a week later he was out here re-writing the film.16 John Laing added: “It was one of those things that made us make the film more a character study. No longer did the film have to be designed to get Thomas out of prison.”17 KELLY JOHNSON AND TONY BARRY IN GEOFF MURPHY'S GOODBYE PORK PIE (1 9 8 1 ).

The pardon, however, only increased public interest in this still officially unsolved case, and helped make the film a major critical and box-office success.

GO O DBYE PORK PIE Geoff Murphy’s second feature, G o o d b y e P ork Pie, is a fastmoving comedy about two adventurers who drive from one end of New Zealand to the other. When interviewed during produc­ tion, writer-director Geoff Murphy said: I didn’t have much desire to make features [...] because I couldn’t see how it could be done and make a product worthy of a broad release. I knew it would cost more than the market could possibly realize, and I couldn’t see myself furiously telling lies to raise the money! It really only became a possibility with the establishment of the Film Commission.18 The idea for G o o d b y e P ork Pie came from Chris Thompson, a freelance film producer, who told Murphy a story about how he was hitchhiking one day and was picked up by two very odd people. Along the way, they stopped at various places and sold bits of the car. Eventually Thompson realized it was a rental car they were pawning off! 6 • CINEMA

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Murphy collaborated on the zany script with Ian Mune, an actor who would also become an important New Zealand director. The film was financed in the manner common at the time. Murphy: The first thing we did was to form a consortium of private companies — an equipment hire company, my service company, and a sound production company — which put up $70,000 in the form of services and facilities. Then we went to the Commission, who agreed to invest. So we already had the film two-thirds financed before we started looking for a private investor. But it took a while. The script had a tremendously polarizing effect on people, because it’s anti-materialist, and financiers are very reverent about property.19 [...] Murphy also recalled: With G oodbye Pork Pie, what I wanted to make was a film that would be very popular - which it was - but which also said things about an individual’s reaction to a terribly over-regulated society, and the desire for them to set their own goals, no matter how absurd they were. But I didn’t want to put that message in huge letters, so that the audience felt I was giving them a sermon.20 The N Z FC ’s sales and marketing director Lindsay Shelton adds: G oodbye Pork Pie held back its release for 12 months. During that time we inundated the New Zealand public with news of its international successes. By the time it was released, the people were orgasmic. They couldn’t hold back any more. Everybody went.21 G o o d b y e P ork Pie is the third top-grossing New Zealand movie in New Zealand, having just been overtaken by Jane Campion’s T he Piano (1993), which had no New Zealand investment, and which is now the number one film, ahead of F ootrot Flats: A D o g ’s T ale (Murray Ball, 1986). When one considers as well that C am e a H ot Friday (Ian Mune, 1985) is still the number 4 top-grossing New Zealand film at home and Utu (Geoff Murphy, 1983) number 5, one senses the magnitude of these early 1980s successes. Not even the muchapplauded An Angel at My T able (Jane Campion, 1990) has dislodged those early hits, climbing to number 6. (See Chart 3.) Of course, if the box-office figures were translated into 1994 dollar values, the relative success of those early 1980s films would be even greater. GOODBYE PORK PIE DIRECTOR GEOFF MURPHY, RIGHT, W ITH ACTORS KEITH RICHARDSON AND BILL SHEAT.

RAY FOLEY (KEITH ABERDEIN) IN ROGER DONALDSON'S SMASH PALACE (1 9 8 2 ).

OTHER KEY FILMS Roger Donaldson’s second feature, Smash P alace (1982; number 9), is the story of a racing driver’s marriage break-up. It dramati­ cally confirmed Donaldson’s reputation as one of New Zealand’s best craftsman and a filmmaker with a good sense of his audi­ ence. In 1987 Donaldson recalled: [...] people pay their three bucks to go to see the movies, and they expect to see stuff that’s comparable to the best American, British - whatever - movies. If you can’t deliver Star Wars in terms of the special effects, you’ve at least got to deliver something that gets them going - something that’s controversial in some way or another. [...] I’m quite committed to the New Zealand film industry. Well, I’m committed to my own movies, really: the New Zealand film industry is something that’s just happened. There are real advan­ tages here, though: Smash Palace is my movie, and I couldn’t have made it anywhere else. I definitely have more chance to make my movies here; in Los Angeles, I’d be just another hack director.22 Despite these sentiments, Donaldson left for Hollywood al­ most immediately. Utu (1983) is Geoff Murphy’s third feature, and his second major box-office success. It is the oft harrowing tale of a Europeanized Maori who, on seeing the senseless massacre of his tribe by the Pakeha (Europeans), turns on his former masters and enacts utu - retribution. At the time of the film’s release, Murphy said: The real conflicts of this country have not changed at all. What Utu illustrates is that violence is part of the human social fabric. The same violence is here today, it is just that the nature of it has changed.21 As with G o o d b y e P ork Pie, Murphy tried to keep the message clear but subtle: People go to a film for some sort of release and entertainment, and I feel an obligation to give them what they go for. The sort of films I admire most are the ones that succeed in doing that without short-changing the other side of things.24 Utu cost $3 million, a long way from the poverty-level budget of Wild Man and an indication of how the industry (and costs) had grown. C am e a H ot Friday, based on the novel by Ronald Hugh Morrieson, was the directorial debut of Ian Mune, writer of Sleeping D ogs, Smash Palace and several other films. It concerns a couple of con men running a racing scam in a small North Island town in the 1950s. Nick Roddick, a former editor of Cinem a Papers, wrote: HEW

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A MAORI VILLAGE IS ATTACKED BY THE PAKEHA. GEOFF MURPHY'S UTU (1 9 8 3 ).

More than any film since Smash Palace, it captures the spirit of rural New Zealand, though not in a nostalgic or condescending way. Mune’s style is definitely in the over-the-top category. But it is consistent, reaching its finest in the performance of Maori entertainer Billy T. James as the Tainuia Kid, a colourful lunatic.2' Lindsay Shelton adds: The key element of Came a Hot Friday, apart from the fact that Ian Mune had made an extremely funny movie, was Billy T. James, who is now dead. He was a uniquely high-profile televi­ sion comedy star. Although he only had a cameo role in the film, everybody was drawn in by Billy T. James. As for Geoff Murphy, he continued his extraordinary run of success with the sci-fi adventure The O uiet Earth (1985; number 10). Zac (Bruno Lawrence) wakes up to find himself alone in the world: everyone else has vanished as a result of a dimensional experiment that got out of hand. Nick Roddick: Murphy has perfected his ability to combine moments of anarchic humour with an edge-of-the-seat adventure movie. Whereas in G oodbye Pork Pie, the jokes and the stunts co-existed uneasily, and in Utu the virtuoso juggling with history and the audience’s expectations left many uncertain as to whether they were watch­ ing a New Zealand western or a serious slice of nineteenthcentury history, in The Quiet Earth the tone is unified. [...] Like Utu, The Quiet Earth is clearly the work of a major filmmaker of someone who cares about his craft and what he does.26 THE TAINU IA KID (BILLY T. JAMES) AND WESLEY PENNINGTON (PETER BLAND). IAN MUNE'S CAME A HO T FRIDAY (1 9 8 5 ).

MARIANNE BASLER IN LARRY PARR'S A SOLDIER'S TALE (1 9 8 8 ).

Vigil (1984), Vincent Ward’s first feature after several award­ winning shorts, was not a local hit like these other films, but it was a remarkable critical success around the world. It was also the first New Zealand feature to be invited to Competition at Cannes, the start of a record that dwarfs that of countries many times New Zealand’s size and with far stronger industries com­ mercially. Ward’s story, of an 11-year-old girl who does battle with a mysterious stranger on a remote New Zealand farm, is striking evidence of the talent that would more completely flower in The N avigator: A M edieval O dyssey (1988) and M ap o f the Human H eart (1993).

THE TIDE TURNS Even though 1983-85 were the boom years in terms of produc­ tion, things had begun to sour. There was growing concern within government that not all film business dealings were above board. Two initiatives were taken. First, government announced that the tax period would officially be brought to a close. Mladen Ivancic, the present finance director of the NZFC: In 1983, the tax laws were changed in such a way that they discouraged private investment in film. All the loop-holes were closed and, from the magic date of 30 September 1984, no new film projects had the ability to attract private investment with the generous offer of a 150% write-off. There was still a period, though, during which projects that had started before that date were entitled to complete production and post-production under the old regime. It took till 1986-87 before a large number of these projects were completed.27 Lawyer Bill Sheat feels, “The main contribution of the tax period was to cause the private investment sector, such as it was, to dry up completely.”28 John Barnett, now at South Pacific Pictures, a wholly-owned subsidiary of Television New Zealand, has a more positive view: People still talk about the tax regime, but my own view has always been that the abundance of tax money enabled us to create the infrastructure we have today. We were able to get the equipment and to bring people in. I recently did an analysis of films funded by tax money as opposed to films funded by the NZFC. I found that the percentage of hits, critical and box-office, was exactly the same.29 In fact, Antony I. Ginnane did the same exercise in Australia, analyzing FFC films and 10BA films. Ginnane found they too

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CHEEKY, WAL AND THE DOG IN MURRAY BALL’S FO O TRO T FLATS: A D O G S TALE (1 9 8 6 ).

came out the same. Barnett: “Exactly. Films are no respecters of where the monies come from.”

THE IRD REVIEW The second government action was to have the Internal Revenue Department (IRD) review almost all the tax films. This had a disastrous effect on private investment in local films. No charges have ever been laid, but the spectre of the IRD suspiciously inspecting one’s books looms large. As Ivancic says, “It resulted in a lot of bad publicity in the financial press and that has been enough to keep private investors on the sidelines.” Bill Sheat adds: Once the tax benefits were finished and the IRD started its attack on virtually every film that was made, private investors simply didn’t want to invest at all. Why invest in a movie and buy a ticket to a tax investigation? One of the major concerns, and it still has to be dealt with, is to create a climate where investors are prepared to take a risk. At the moment, not only do they risk losing their money, but they get done over by the tax department as well. That’s really more than most investors are prepared to take on. Add to that the stock market collapse of October 1987, which wiped $8 billion off the value of shares, and things were looking grim. As Lindsay Shelton explains: All the big companies which used to have spare cash were no longer willing to go into high-risk investment areas. The big companies all retreated back to their ‘core businesses’ and sold off all activities that seemed to be irrelevant to that core business. There is no way they can consider film any more because film isn’t their core business.

MIRAGE As if to dramatize that spreading sense of doom came the 1988 crash of the Mirage Entertainment Corporation. Larry Parr and Don Reynolds, two extremely experienced producers, formed Mirage in March 1987, seven months before the stock market crash. It became the first film company to be floated in New Zealand in 50 years. Within a year, it was in receivership with debts of $12.1 million. But matters didn’t stop there, as Mladen Ivancic recounts: The accounting firm which audited the Mirage prospectus and checked the financial projections was successfully sued by the receivers. There was something like a $7m payment in damages made.

PETER JACKSON'S BAD TASTE (1 9 8 8 ).

Mirage was before my time, but, from what I’ve read, its problems were in part to do with A Soldier’s Tale [Larry Parr, 1988]. It apparently went way over budget and sucked up the financial resources to the detriment of the rest of the company. Lindsay Shelton adds: A Soldier’s Tale was shot in France. The completion of the film was unhappily marked by the collapse of Mirage, and paralleled strangely the collapse of some of the biggest American distribu­ tion companies, including Atlantic Releasing, which had signed a $lm pre-sale for the film. In terms of visibility, it became a doomed film. It was almost not seen at all. The whole catalogue of Mirage was eventually bought by a British investor, who passed on sales to the Overseas Film Group. All the productions that Larry Parr did, and he was the most prolific of any producer in New Zealand, are not available except from this company in Los Angeles. This has resulted in several of Larry’s films being unavailable in New Zealand - just the nature of the business, I guess. Ivancic concludes: All of these things taken together meant there is a negative investment climate in New Zealand towards feature films. That will only change very slowly with a track record of success. There has been the odd private investor, a relative or friend of a producer, but it’s not significant. Ivancic does not envisage another attempt to float a company like Mirage: “I can’t see that happening in the foreseeable future. Mirage was a product of that frenzied speculative period just before the crash.”

FO O TR O T FLATS: A D O G ’S TALE The first post-tax glimmer of hope was the private financing and release in 1986 of New Zealand’s second greatest-ever hit: Murray Ball’s animated F o o tro t Flats: A D o g ’s Tale. It was based on the long-running newspaper cartoon strip which had not only been in every newspaper in the country for years, but had been an annual book. Shelton: Each book had sold 40,000 or 50,000 copies, so everybody knew the farmer and his dog. As well, the producers did a brilliant job of marketing it with hit songs and music videos, such as few New Zealand producers have ever achieved before or since. What Footrot Flats, G oodbye Pork Pie and Came a H ot Friday had in common was immense public awareness before they arrived in the theatres. The problem with some of the New Zealand movies which have failed to perform is that there hasn’t NEW

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been a satisfactory degree of public awareness. They have come and gone without enough people knowing about them. In 1987, there was Barry Barclay’s important N gati, the first feature directed by a Maori in New Zealand (see “Maori Cin­ ema”, pp. 39-41). The next positive sign for the New Zealand film industry was the emergence of a young filmmaker of singular passions and determination.

BAD TASTE Peter Jackson began his directing career at the age of nine when he shot a World War II epic on Super 8. After two more Super 8 films, he began a 20-minute short, R oast o f the D ay, but this kept expanding into the hour-long and re-titled Giles' Big Day. The NZFC then stepped in and helped the film develop even further to its final length of 93 minutes, retitled yet again as B ad Taste (1988). Jackson not only wrote, produced, directed, photo­ graphed and co-edited the film, he also played two parts in it. One of the most dramatic debuts of the 1980s, the film instantly won international regard, winning the Special Jury Prize at the 17th Paris Festival of Fantasy and Science Fiction Films. Just before the film’s release, Jackson said: The idea of making an outrageous, over-the-top movie had appealed to me since I used to watch Monty Python’s Flying Circus as a kid. I think of Bad Taste as a live-action Tom and jerry cartoon - that’s all it really is. The film has a strong New Zealand feel about it in the scenery and locations and so on, and thousands of people overseas are going to see it. It is important for the [New Zealand Film] Commission to be involved in a variety of movies, and Bad Taste is just as much a New Zealand movie as any other movie made here.30 Two years later Jackson made the ‘X-rated’ puppet cult classic, M eet the Feebles.

NEVER SAY DIE Three years after T he Q uiet E arth, Geoff Murphy returned to the screen with N ever Say D ie (1988; number 11). It is a spoof of the James Bond genre that has echoes of the action-chase style of an earlier Murphy film. Nic [Mike Nicolaidi] wrote in Variety: Never Say Die is an upmarket version of Geoff Murphy’s 1981 road movie G oodbye Pork Pie and confirms his reputation as New Zealand’s foremost and most tantalizing director. Never Say Die is long on stunts and car chases and short on cohesive story flow [...] Murphy is a filmmaker of serious concern who often seems overpowered by his delight in (technical) incen­ diary effects. Never Say Die should do well on the home market [...] Off­ shore, it may need more careful handling.31 Nicolaidi was correct. While not known outside New Zealand (the film appears not to be in any “Movies on T V ” guide), at home it was a hit. Murphy was now in the extraordinary position of having directed four of the ten top-grossing New Zealand films of all time.32 Not counting the no-budget W ild M an, that is a 100 per cent record of hits. Shelton: Geoff Murphy made, in quite rapid succession, four immensely popular New Zealand movies for New Zealand audiences. They also sold very well internationally and I thought Geoff was going to have a lifetime career as a populist New Zealand filmmaker. So I was quite surprised when he went off to Hollywood and did Young Guns II and his other Hollywood movies. He is still working very successfully in Hollywood, with Freejack and so on. Alas, Murphy and Donaldson were not the only New Zealand filmmakers to move overseas. They were merely at the forefront 10 • C I N E M A

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of a talent drain that continues to this day (see discussion in “Issues”, pp. 32-33).

A BRIEF REVIVAL Production picked up briefly in 1988. It was a very lively period with Vincent Ward’s The N avigator: A M edieval O dyssey (number 7) in Competition at Cannes and generally acclaimed. Peter Jackson, the same year, was discovered internationally with B ad Taste and Merata Mita became the second Maori filmmaker to complete a Maori feature with Mauri. Vincent Ward’s second feature was an even bigger critical success than Vigil and established Ward as a director of world standing. This stark tale of “five men and a boy tunnelling from a Middle Ages ravaged by Black Death to a present day of industrial horror and glass”33 is an at times brilliant analogy of two worlds, two sets of expectations and realizations - and the frightening parallels within. Not that the film had been easy to set up. Ward moved to Australia when the money fell over temporarily. It was finally structured as an Australian-New Zealand co-production by pro­ ducer John Maynard, who along with David Hannay and others has helped pioneer trans-Tasman productions. Unlike Vigil, how­ ever, it generated critical response and box office in New Zealand. The 1988 revival which The N avigator: A M edieval O dyssey typified was, however, rather short-lived. Shelton: The low point of the industry, as it were, was reached in 1988-89, when there was only one feature completed and on show at Cannes, Richard Riddiford’s unfortunately titled Zilch!. Judith McCann, who was appointed executive director of the NZFC in 1988 (and left in early 1994), recalls: There were a number of projects that the Commission had, at various stages, made conditional commitments to portions of their financing, but they were unable to get the balance of the financing together. There was virtually no private investor prepared to take the risk, even on An Angel at My T able, which had pre-sales and minimum guarantees in place for just over 50% of its budget.34 Because of this situation, a change of policy was wrought at the NZFC. Shelton: Things started to come right again when Judith McCann arrived at the Commission. She observed that there was virtually no production happening, and got the Board of the Commission to kick-start the industry back again. McCann: The Commission took the courageous step of 100% financing a number of films, including An Angel at My Table, to ensure that they went into production. That is virtually the only period when the NZFC fully financed features, though we have been the sole cash investor on some films by first-time feature directors. Of late, there has been increasing amounts of money coming in from other sources. We are still the majority investor when films are fully financed in New Zealand, but encouragingly there have been co-productions with Australia like Alex [Megan Simpson, 1993]. There have also been substantial off-shore pre-sales in Peter Jackson’s new feature, Heavenly Creatures, and John Reid’s Taking Liberties. This is really encouraging.

A N ANGEL A T MY TABLE An Angel at My T able, Jane Campion’s award-winning film on the life of Janet Frame, was shot in late 1989 and premiered at Venice in September 1990. Pierre Rissient, that indefatigable supporter of Australasian (and world) cinema, had in fact tried to convince Campion to enter part or all of An Angel at My T a b le at Cannes that year, but Campion insisted it was a mini-series and not a feature. Shelton:

In fact, we did have it on video at Cannes and surreptitiously showed it to a few people, including the director of Venice. That’s where he saw it and said he wanted it. It was the Venice decision to invite it, plus the response from other theatrical people who looked at it in May 1990 in Cannes, that enabled us, after long discussion, to persuade Jane Campion and her producer, Bridget Ikin, to agree to allow what they had made as a television mini-series to be converted into a theatrical feature. There was quite a long-drawn-out discussion before they were willing to change their minds. The rest, of course, is history. An Angel at my Table is the most successful film the Film Commission has ever invested in. We were the 100% investor. It’s also the most successful film we have ever invested in in terms of international awards, international acclaim and international distribution. The decade could hardly have ended on a better note, or the new one begun. PUBLICITY STILL FOR JANE CAM PIO N’S A N AN G EL A T M Y TABLE (1 9 9 0 ): JANET FRAME, A T REAR, W ITH ACTRESSES KAREN FERGUSSON, ALEXIA KEOGH AND KERRY FOX.

THE 1990s New Zealand cinema was notably resurgent in 1 9 9 0 with not only the release of Jane Cam pion’s film , but also Gaylene P reston's R u b y a n d R a ta , Martyn Sanderson's F ly in g F o x in a F r e e d o m T r e e , based on an im portant Polynesian novel, G regor Nicholas' caper, U s e r F r ie n d ly , and Peter Jackson's M e e t th e F e e b le s , among others.

nfortunately, 1991 was a bit of a low again. The highlight was Barry Barclay’s Te Rua, the third Maori feature. Other films included T h e Returning, John Day’s erotic ghost thriller, which overseas markets found a little underworked, and Dale Bradley’s Chunuk Bair. 1992 saw the release of Ian Mune’s T he End o f the G olden W eather. The film, scripted by Mune and Bruce Mason, is based on a much-loved classic of theatre. Mason’s one-man play is the account of a boy’s coming to terms with the differences between expectation and reality, be­ tween social codes and private behaviour, in 1950s New Zealand. Geoff (Stephen Fulford) is on holiday in a picturesque seaside town when he meets Firpo (Stephen Papps), a most unusual young man. His wealthy parents see him as mentally impaired and wish to keep him out of public view. But Geoff regards Firpo as a hero, especially when he shows dazzling speed at running. As the town has a New Zealand champion arrogantly running up and down the beach with (papier ma«jhé) rocks in his extended hands, Geoff sees a way for Firpo to prove to the world how remarkable he is. But after a breathtaking start, Firpo falters. The lack of overseas response to T he E n d o f the G olden W eather (it has been turned down at least twice by every Austral­ ian distributor; see “Lindsay Shelton”, p. 51) is puzzling as it is unquestionably one of the most interesting and successful New Zealand films of recent times. Perhaps the ending, which is about disillusionment, is too much a "downer’. Certainly, if the film were remade in America the resolution would be changed.

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But the film is admirable for the tough choices it takes, for a realization that ail forms of “specialness” are unique and cannot, should not, be judged by "normal’ criteria. Of course, everyone would like Firpo to win the race, but why should human competi­ tiveness be a measure to evaluate the special of this world? Also on release in 1992 was David Blyth’s M oonrise, one of several recent attempts to bring in an offshore name actor (in this case At Lewis from T he M unsters)' and use him or her for the good of the movie. Lindsay Shelton: Lewis proved to be of some value in getting video deals for the film and he certainly helped to get a video deal for the film in the States. It did quite of bit of business, which it might not have done without the useful name. Concerns over imported actors have not invoked the contro­ versy in New Zealand that they have in some other countries, such as Australia (see “Issues”, pp. 35—36). In 1992, there was also T he Footstep M an, the second feature by Leon Narbey, one of New Zealand’s most highly-regarded directors of photography, and Alison Maclean’s Crush. Selected for Competition at Cannes, Crush certainly helped confirm Maclean’s reputation as a director of talent, even though it was seen by most as a major disappointment after her striking short film, Kitchen Sin k. Meanwhile, goremeister Peter Jackson was back with Braindead, a black-comedy splatter movie, which sold worldwide and firmly NEW

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established Jackson’s reputation as a director of significant talent. In his review of the film in Cinem a P apers, Karl Quinn writes: [W]hile Braindead is an enjoyable - on occasion, hilarious - romp (or wade) through tides of blood and fields of gore, there is something quite unsettling about it at a sub-textual level. The Oedipal conflict between Lionel [Timothy Balme] and his grasp­ ing Mother [Elizabeth Moody! is the most apparent example [...] The finale, in which Mother appears as a giant latex zombie with womb agape ready to gobble Lionel up, is both the comic apothe­ osis of this theme, and the elaborate realization of an unstated gag which has Lionel’s mum as the Mother of all Zombies. [...] Splatter aside, Braindead shares much with Les Patterson Saves the World (George Miller, 1987), most notably an uninhib­ ited willingness to transcend notions of political correctness and good taste when dealing with some undeniably delicate issues. Whether we are to laud or loathe Jackson and Miller for boldly going where no-one has gone before remains one of the unresolved questions of the 20th Century.35

1993 When future histories of New Zealand cinema are written, it is certain 1993 will be seen as a peak year, with three films in Official Selection at Cannes - not counting the French-financed The Piano. Jane Campion’s film has already been extensively discussed in Cinem a P apers, and elsewhere, so it needs no additional comment here, other than perhaps to suggest it is a quintessentially New Zealand film despite its origins and financing. The dearth of New Zealand product on show in Australia has led to a tendency to undervalue the uniquely New Zealand aspects of Campion’s work - elements of composition and visualization, of a quirkiness-cum-caricature in the characterization, of the slightly off-centre tone - and simply label them as “Campionesque”, when they are more complex and culturally specific than that. Also released in 1993 was John Laing’s A bsent W ithout Leave. Largely an autobiographical tale of scriptwriter Jim Edwards, this 1940s story tells of a recruited man, Ed (Craig McLachlan), who deserts the mobilizing Army to spend more time with his pregnant wife (Katrina Hobbs). Director John Laing, who had come to prominence with B eyon d R eason able D ou bt, says: What appears at first to be the romantic story of two innocents adrift in a backwater of World War II becomes an epic journey with a cast of two - a young man and woman cast headlong into the minefield of love and marriage at a time when there was no time for either, and in a society where the roles of men and women were drastically changing.36 RUBY (YVONNE LAWLEY) IN GAYLENE PRESTON’S RUBY A N D RATA (1 9 9 0 ).

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SAM NEILL AS STEWART IN JANE CAM PIO N’S THE P IA H O (1 9 9 3 ).

The film is rather more low key than how Laing describes it and is essentially about the slow drift towards love and appreciation. Ed has married not for love, but because he had to, and the real journey is towards a true love and appreciation of his wife. The film ends, as every member of the audience knows it will, with Ed saying, “I love you.” Because of its setting and story - a man chooses his wife above duty to his country at war - the film raises some issues to do with individual responsibility and conscience. Unfortunately, Ed is so played as an unthinking simpleton that his decision to run seems not arrived at through thought but impulse. This renders the intended drama of conscience somewhat muted. Also on show was Megan Simpson’s A lex (which will go straight to television in Australia), a minor-key story of a girl’s passion for swimming and the conflicts that causes with other areas of her life (schoolwork, love interests). Some have criticized the film for being yet another person-finds-strength-through-thedeath-of-someone-close, but such incidents may well be more common in life than in cinema. The film is so low key, though, that it almost fades from view at times, and the characterization is rather predictable, but there are sufficient moments of warmth and observation to make it enjoyable, if untaxing, viewing.37 A bigger critical hit was Gaylene Preston’s B read an d R oses, a mini-series shot on 16mm which had a successful theatrical release prior to its television screen­ ing. The series is based on the autobiography of political and feminist activist Sonja Davies, a New Zealand icon. It begins in the war year of 1940 and spans two decades as Davies (Genevieve Picot) moves from nurse to single parent to rewarded wife, from victim of tuberculosis to a long life of struggle and achievement. (See interviewwith Gaylene Preston, pp. 1 7 - 1 9 .) Stewart Main and Peter Weils’ D esperate R em ­ edies, first shown in Un Certain Regard at Cannes in 1993, has since been theatrically released in New

Zealand and, a rare feat, in Australia. It has also been picked up in the U.S. by Miramax, a major independent distributor. D esp erate R em edies is a high-camp extravaganza of bright colour, verbal wit and sexual intrigue - or, as the directors describe it, “the commerce of love”38. Will Dorothea Brook (Jennifer Ward-Lealand), successful draper, reject the sordid advances of the scheming William (Michael Hurst), succumb to the love of Lawrence (Kevin Smith) or recognize her true love and passion for her companion, Anne (Lisa Chappell)? According to Main and Wells, “Each of the characters has a hidden agenda and the film is about the essential remedy everyone seeks in life: how to get what you want without destroying what you set out to get.” As if mirroring the end of T he P ian o, where Ada (Holly Hunter) chooses the person who has degraded her through sexual manipulation, here Dorothea chooses Anne, who, acting out of lesbic jealousy, had pushed Dorothea into a ghastly marriage, which includes sexual revulsion and near bankruptcy. Happy romantic resolutions to New Zealand films certainly can be very unnerving. Much has been made of the film’s use of sets and the striking sense of design. Main: The world we set out to create in Desperate Remedies was deliberately without historical references, apart from references to other melodramas or costume dramas. When we were working with the actors we looked repeatedly at William Wyler’s The Heiress, Visconti’s Senso, Sirk’s Imitation o f Life and Welles’ The M agnificent Am bersons. We were after the heightened reality of melodrama. And the great melodramas offer a kind of release - so much larger than life, so heroic in their own way. You start off laughing and then end up crying, deeply moved, almost ashamed in a way to be so seduced by something your logic resists. This is what makes melodrama so enjoyable. It works on a subconscious level, both as cartoon and song. Wells adds: We wanted to get away from the lie of colonial filmmaking, where everything is pretty, sun-baked and painted white. We were evoking a colony as a mind-set, as a psychological state. The town of Hope is more like Vichy France than colonial New Zealand a world of informers, spies, of shortages and shameless luxury. People sell themselves and never let themselves be who they really are. Garth Maxwell’s premier feature, J a c k B e N im ble, released in November 1993, is equally a cinematic oddity, an extremely black look at the worst of all possible families. Inspiration came from a comment made to Maxwell many years before: I was told of an incident when a young child was whipped with barbed-wire. The concept was so horrifying that the image stayed with me. I kept asking myself: how would something that brutal affect a child growing up and what would be the consequences.39 Jack (Alexis Arquette) and Dora (Sarah Smuts-Kennedy), orphaned after their mother’s suicide, are separated by Welfare. Jack is brought up in the vilest of families on a remote farm. His only desire is to re-unite himself with Dora, and seek revenge on all those who have harmed him. Maxwell: Jack and Dora are like two halves of one personality. Together they create a healthy mind, but individually they cannot survive. [...] ' In film, horror is a brilliant popular vehicle for testing the limits of contemporary morality. Characters such as Dr Hannibal Lecter

TOP TO BOTTOM: PETER JACKSON'S BRAINDEAD ( 1 9 9 2 ); LAWRENCE HAYES (KEVIN SMITH). STEWART M AIN AND PETER WELLS' DESPERATE REMEDIES (1 9 9 3 ); DORA (SARAH SMUTS-KENNEDY) IS ATTACKED BY THE SISTERS FROM HELL IN GARTH MAXWELL’S JACK BE NIMBLE (1 9 9 3 ); ED (CRAIG MCLAUGHLIN) AND DAISY (K ATRINA HOBBS). JOHN LAING ’S ABSENT W ITHO UT LEAVE (1 9 9 3 ).

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F eeb les), the film is produced by the late Jim Booth. (A full discussion on the film appears in the interview with Peter Jackson, pp. 2 0 - 2 4 , 2 9 -3 0 .) Jane Campion’s sister, Anna, is making her first feature in the UK, B lo o d y W edding, a co-production with New Zealand. The producers are Bridget Ikin and John Maynard. Finally, there is John Reid’s provisionally-titled T he Last T a tto o , a romantic thriller set in 1943, when 100,000 Marines were shipped to New Zealand to defend against Japanese invasion and prepare for the Pacific campaign. Marine Captain Mike Starwood (Tony Goldwyn) is assigned to investigate the murder of Sergeant O ’Rourke. The dead ma­ rine’s girlfriend, and a vital witness, has vanished. Starwood must find her, and he invokes the help of health nurse Kelly Towne (Kerry Fox). John Reid:

MIKE STARWOOD (TO NY GOLDWYN) AND NURSE KELLY TOW NE (KERRY FOX). JOHN REID'S THE LAST TATTOO, 1 9 9 4 ).

in The Silence o f the Lam bs [Jonathan Demme, 1992] inhabit a psychological world similar to Jack. We struggle to understand the logic which they rely on to justify themselves. It is our sympathy for the circumstances surrounding Jack which makes this film so compelling. Some have found the film confusing in its style changes, but that seems more a mark of the unease the film generates in audiences by deliberately alternating moments of horror and comedy, splatter and true pathos. It is a striking debut, and the four sisters from hell are likely to remain as some of the most memorable characters in all New Zealand cinema.

UPCOMING

I’ve been interested in that particular period for some time. [...] The sailors were made to feel very welcome and a telephone number was advertised in the paper, so you could call up and offer the sailors local hospitality. [...] I knew there was a story there and over quite a long period of time I gathered bits and pieces of information. At first, I couldn’t find a way of treating it, but then [...] I discovered that during the war a nurse was employed by the Health Department specifically to track down and treat local women who may have caught a venereal disease from the marines. The marines being treated would give the nurse a bit of paper saying “Her name was Alary, she wore a green dress” and that sort of thing. It was then her job to go and find these women and make sure they were okay. So, I started the storyline from there.41 The L ast T attoo was filmed on location in and around Welling­ ton and Dunedin, and at the Avalon/NFU Studios. It is Reid’s fourth feature, coming after M iddle Age S pread (1979), Cari'y M e B ack (1982) and L ea v e All Fair (1985). A pioneer of the revival in New Zealand cinema, Reid is, in the 1990s, finding himself working alongside the newer talents of Jackson, Tahamori and others. The New Zealand film industry has achieved far more than anyone could have expected. If it can find and maintain a balance between experience and youth (something Australia has not), then its best days are still ahead.

Already, 1994 is looking an important year for New Zealand film with several interesting and eagerly-awaited films. Lee Tamahori’s O nce W ere W arriors, adapted from Alan Duff’s best-selling novel by playwright Riwia Brown, concerns the struggle and eventual triumph of Beth (Rena A N N A CAMPION'S B LO O DY WEEKEHD-. CHARLOTTE (BIDDY H O D S O N ), NEIL (OLIVER MlLBURNE), ZITA (THANDIE NEW TO N), ROSE Owen) over her marriage to the violent Jake Heke (CATHERINE MCCORMICK) AND LIONEL (MATTHEW EGGLETON). (Temuera Morrison). Producer Robin Scholes says: It’s first and foremost a powerful woman’s story. Beth, in the beginning of the film, is caught in a relationship which began with love but has turned violent. Beth eventually realizes that the violence is destroying her and, more importantly, her children’s futures. Once Were Warriors is the story of Beth’s tri­ umphs over the greatest odds. It is full of warmth, humour and hope, which is all the more poignant because it emerges from a world filled with violence and drink. That world is hugely energetic and a passionate part of our culture.40 Being a tough look at urban and marital violence, and set in the Maori community, it is inevitably going to be a highly controversial film. (See fuller discus­ sion in “Maori Cinema”, pp. 39—41.) Peter Jackson’s H eavenly Creatures is based on the famous Parker-Hulme case, where two school­ girls murdered one of their mothers in Christchurch in 1954. Scripted by Peter Jackson and Frances Walsh (who co-scripted B rain dead and M eet the 14 • C I N E M A

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F E A T U R E FILM S M A D E IN N E W Z E A L A N D S IN C E T 9 4 0

NB: Films marked with an * had NZFC investment- Those marked with an # have a foreign component. All information supplied by the NZFC. 1940 1952 1954 1964 1966 1969 1972 1973 1975 1975 1976 1977 1977 1977 1978 1978 1979 1979 1979 1980 1980 1981 1981 1981 1981 1981 1982 1982 1982 1982 1982 1982 1983 1983 1983 1983

(Rudall Hayward) (John O’Shea and Roger Mirams) T h e S e e k e rs (Ken Annakin)# R u n a w a y (John O’Shea) D o n ’t L e t it G e t Y ou (John O'Shea) A Y o u n g G u y o n M t C o o k (Jun Fukuda) To L o v e a M a o ri (Rudall Hayward) R a n g i's C a tc h (Michael Forlong) T e s t P ic tu re s (Geoff Steven and others) L a n d fa ll (Paul Maunder) T h e G o d B o y (tele-feature, Murray Reece) O ff T h e E d g e (Michael Firth) W ild M a n (Geoff Murphy) S le e p in g D o g s (Roger Donaldson) S o lo (Tony Williams) A n g e l M in e (David Blyth)* S k in D e e p (Geoff Steven)* M id d le A g e S p re a d (John Reid)* S o n s fo r th e R e tu rn H o m e (Paul Maunder)* B e y o n d R e a s o n a b le D o u b t (John Laing)* S q u e e z e (Richard Turner) G o o d b y e P o rk P ie (Geoff Murphy)* P ic tu re s (Michael Black)* R a c e fo r th e Y a n k e e Z e p h y r (David Hemmings)# D e a d K id s (Michael Laughlin)# B a d B lo o d (Mike Newell)# S m a s h P a la c e (Roger Donaldson)* T h e S c a re c ro w (Sam Pillsbury)* C a rry M e B a c k (John Reid)* P ris o n e r (Peter Werner)# B a ttle tru c k (Harley Cokliss)# B ro th e rs (Terry Bourke) - shot in Australia U tu (Geoff Murphy)* P a tu (Merata Mita)* S tra ta (Geoff Steven) M e rry C h ris tm a s M r L a w re n c e (Naglsa Oshima)# R e w i’s L a s t S ta n d B ro k e n B a r r ie r

1983 1983 1984 1984 1984 1984 1984 1984 1984 1984 1984 1984 1984 1984 1984 1984 1985 1985 1985 1985 1985 1985 1985 1985 1985 1985 1985 1986 1986 1986 1986 1986 1987 1987 1987 1987 1988 1988

(Ferdinand Fairfax)# (David Blyth. tele-feature) T re s p a s s e s (Peter Sharp) S e c o n d T im e L u c k y (Michael Anderson)# Iris (Tony Isaac) A m o n g the C in d e rs (Rolf Haedrich)* C o n s ta n c e (Bruce Morrison)* W ild H o rs e s (Derek Morton)* V ig il (Vincent Ward)* T h e S ile n t O n e (Yvonne Mackay)* D e a th W a n n e d U p (David Blyth)* T ria l R u n (Melanie Read)* P a lle t o n th e F lo o r (Lynton Butler) M e s m e riz e d (Michael Laughlin)# O th e r H a lv e s (John Laing) K in g p in (Mike Walker) C a m e a H o t F rid a y (Ian Mune)* M r W ro n g (Gaylene Preston)* L ie o f th e L a n d (Grahame McLean) S y lv ia (Michael Firth) S h o u ld 1 B e G o o d (Grahame McLean) L e a v e A ll F a ir (John Reid)# T h e Q u ie t E a rth (Geoff Murphy)* R e s tle s s /H o t T a rg e ts (Dennis Lewiston)# H e a rt o f th e S ta g (Michael Firth)# T h e L o s t T rib e (John Laing)* T he B o u n ty (Roger Donaldson) - some NZ locations B rid g e to N o w h e re (Ian Mune)* A rriv in g T u e s d a y (Richard Riddiford) S h a k e r R u n (Bruce Morrison)# F o o tro t F la ts : A D o g ’s T a le (Murray Ball)# Aces G o P la c e s IV I M a d M is s io n (Ringo Lam) - some NZ locations N g a ti (Barry Barclay)* Q u e e n C ity R o c k e r (Bruce Morrison)* D a n g e ro u s O rp h a n s (John Laing)* M a rk II (John Anderson) S ta rlig h t H o te l (Sam Pillsbury)* Illu s trio u s E n e rg y (Leon Narbey)* S a v a g e Is la n d s L iz z ie

1988 1988 1988 1988 1988 1988 1988 1988 1988 1988 1989 1989 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1990 1991 1991 1991 1991 1991 1992 1992 1992 1992 1992 1992 1993 1993 1993 1993 1993 1993 1993 1993 1994 1994 1994

(Vincent Ward)*# (Merata Mita)* B a d T a ste (Peter Jackson)* T h e L e a d in g E d g e (Michael Firth, ‘documentary’) W illo w (R o n Howard)# - some NZ locations T h e R e s c u e (Ferdinand Fairfax)# - location N e v e r S a y D ie (Geoff Murphy)* A S o ld ie r’s T a le (Larry Parr)# M id n ig h t R u n (Martin Brest) - some NZ locations T h e C h ill F a c to r (David McKenzie)# S e n d a G o rilla (Melanie Reid)* T he G ra s s c u tte r (Ian Mune)# Z ilc h ! (Richard Riddiford)* M e e t th e P e e b le s (Peter Jackson)* F ly in g F o x in a F re e d o m T re e (Martyn Sanderson)* U s e r F rie n d ly (Gregor Nicholas)* A n A n g e l a t M y T a b le (Jane Campion)* T h e S h rim p o n th e B a rb ie (Michael Gottlieb)# R u b y a n d R a ta (Gaylene Preston)* Th e R e tu rn in g (John Day)* Te R u a (Barry Barclay)*# U n d e rc o v e r (Yvonne Mackay) C h u n u k B a ir (Dale Bradley)# O ld S c o re s (Alan Clayton)# S e c re ts (Michael Pattinson)# T h e E n d o f th e G o ld e n W e a th e r (Ian Mune)* M o o n ris e (David Blyth)* C ru s h (Alison Maclean)* T he F o o ts te p M a n (Leon Narbey)* B ra in d e a d (Peter Jackson)* A b s e n t W ith o u t L e a v e (John Laing)* A le x (Megan Simpson)*# T he P ia n o (Jane Campion)# C o p s a n d R o b b e rs (Murray Reece)*# D e s p e ra te R e m e d ie s (Stewart Main, Peter Wells)* J a c k B e N im b le (Garth Maxwell)* B re a d a n d R o s e s (Gaylene Preston)*# T he N a v ig a to r: A M e d ie v a l O d y s s e y

M a u ri

A d rift#

(Peter Jackson)* (John Reid)* W a rrio rs (Lee Tamahori)*

H e a v e n ly C re a tu re s T h e L a s t T a tto o O n c e W e re

T O P F O U R T E E N N E W Z E A L A N D M O V IE S R E L E A S E D IN N E W Z E A L A N D 1. 2. 3. 4.

5. 6. 7.

$2,600,000 $2,200,000 $1,600,000 $1,000,000 $ 700,000 $ 569,000 $ 533,000

T he P ia n o F o o tro t F la ts : A D o g ’s T a le G o o d b y e P o rk P ie C a m e a H o t F rid a y U tu A n A n g e l a t M y T a b le T h e N a v ig a to r: A M e d ie v a l O d y s s e y

1993-94 1986-87 1981 1985 1983 1990-91 1988

NOTES

1

2 3

4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

For those interested in a short history of New Zealand cinema up to the 1970s revival, consult Clive So wry, “Filmmaking in New Zealand: A Brief Historical Survey”, in the New Zealand Supplement, pp. 6-8, in Cinema Papers, No. 27, May-June 1980. For information on Rudall Hayward, who made seven features from 1922 to 1972, see Sowry; on John O ’Shea, see “John O ’Shea”, an interview by Mike Nicolaidi, Cinema Papers, No. 28, August-September 1980, pp. 258-61. “G o o d b y e Pork Pie: Geoff Murphy: Director”, an interview by Peter Beilby, in the New Zealand Supplement, op cit, p. 17. Geoff Murphy, “The End of the Beginning”, Film in A otearoa New Z ealand, edited by Jonathan Dennis & Jan Bieringa, Victoria University Press, with the assistance of the Film Programme of the Queen Elizabeth II Arts Council of New Zealand, Wellington, 1992, p. 134. A character played and written by John Clarke, a humorist, actor and scriptwriter now resident in Australia. “B eyon d R eason able D oubt: John Barnett: Producer”, an interview by Scott Murray and Robert Le Tet, New Zealand Supplement, op cit, p. 37. Geoff Murphy, “The End of the Beginning”, op cit, p. 134. “G o o d b y e Pork Pie: Geoff Murphy: Director”, op cit, p. 17. Taken from uncredited interview with Donaldson in a Sleeping Dogs press kit. Murphy, “The End of the Beginning”, op cit. p. 134. “Bill Sheat: Chairman”, an interview by Peter Beilby and Robert Le Tet, New Zealand Supplement, op cit, p. 22. “Don Blakeney: Executive Director”, an interview by Peter Beilby and Robert Le Tet, New Zealand Supplement, op cit, p. 25. Ibid, p. 26. “B eyon d R eason able D oubt: John Barnett: Producer”, op cit, p. 37. Ibid, p. 38. “Bill Sheat: Chairman”, op cit, p. 23. “B eyon d R eason able D oubt: John Barnett: Producer”, op cit, p. 40. “John Laing: Director”, an interview by Scott Murray, New Zealand Supplement, op cit, p. 35. “G o o d b y e Pork Pie: Geoff Murphy: Director”, op cit, pp. 17-8.

8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

$ 500.000 $ 450.000 $ 450,000 $ 378.000 $ 371.000 $355,000 $350.000

1982 1977 1985 1988 1992 1990 1980

S m a s h P a la c e S le e p in g D o g s T he Q u ie t E a rth N e v e r S a y D ie T he E n d o f th e G o ld e n W e a th e r R u b y a n d R a ta B e y o n d R e a s o n a b le D o u b t

19 Ibid, p . 18. 20 Quoted in Nick Roddick, “Long White Cloud Cover: New Zealand Films in the Eighties”, Cinema Papers, No. 53, September 1985, p. 28. 21 All quotes from Lindsay Shelton, unless otherwise noted, are from an interview conducted with Shelton by the author in Wellington, November 1993. 22 Quoted in Nick Roddick, op cit, p. 25. 23 Quote taken from a Utu press book. 24 Quoted in Nick Roddick, op cit, p. 28. 25 Nick Roddick, op cit, p. 28. 26 Ibid, p. 28. 27 All quotes from Mladen Ivancic are from an interview conducted by the author in Wellington, November 1993. 28 All future quotes from Bill Sheat, unless otherwise noted, are from an interview conducted by the author in Wellington, November 1993. 29 All future quotes from John Barnett, unless otherwise noted, are from an interview conducted by the author in Wellington, November 1993. 30 Quote taken from a press book for B ad Taste. 31 Variety, 28 December 1988-3 January 1989, p. 11. 32 The arrival of two Jane Campion films now means Murphy has four in the top 12. 33 Quote from the author’s entry on the film in Australian Film 1978-1992: A H istorical Survey o f T heatrical Features, Scott Murray (Ed.), Oxford University Press, in association with the Australian Film Commission and Cinema Papers, Melbourne, 1993, p. 254. 34 All quotes from Judith McCann are from an interview conducted with McCann by author in Wellington, November 1993. 35 Karl Quinn, “B rain d ead ”, Cinema Papers, No. 93, May 1993, p. 45. 36 Quote taken from a press book for the film. 37 See interview with director Megan Simpson in Cinema Papers, No. 92, April 1993, pp 2 0 -4 38 All quotes from Main and Wells from press book for the film. 39 Maxwell quotes taken from press book for the film. 40 Quote taken from press material. 41 Quote taken from press material. NEW

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Gaylene Preston and R o b in Laing congratulate

Genenvieve Picot on her rem arkable portrayal of Sonja Davies in B R E A D A N D ROSES

A P R E STO N *LAIN G P R O D U C T IO N in association with N Z on A ir, T V N Z , N Z Film Commission, 1993 Suffrage Centennial T ru st and

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p art from rem aining “a com m itted docu m en tary film m a k e r”

throughout her m u lti-fac ete d c a re e r, Gaylene Preston has

also directed the quirky fe atu re s M r Wrong (1 9 8 5 ) and Ruby and Rata (1 9 9 0 ), and the acclaim ed m ini-series B read and Roses (1 9 9 3 ), about Sonja Davies, the political activist, fem inist and politician. Preston is cu rren tly developing several projects which will continue her vib ran t in terest in and exploration of issues of p a rticu lar im p o r­

ta n ce to wom en, but which equally a ffe c t m en. What did you do in the War, M u m m y ? will be a fe a tu re docum entary about w om en’s e x p e ri­ ences in W orld W ar II, told by the people who were th ere. Arohata is a planned one-hour docu m en tary on a w om en’s prison (for Ninox Film s), while Ophelia is an en tirely new slant on Hamlet, w ritten by Jean Betts and W illiam S hakespeare (for P re sto n *L ain g ).

Preston: I started working in film by accident, when I was doing a drama therapy project in a psychiatric hospital near Cambridge in the early 1970s. The project was for severely institutionalized people, who thought that they were rehearsing for a play. It became fairly obvious that they needed an end product that didn’t involve them repeating themselves all the time, so a friend of mine said, “Oh, I could shoot a film.” She had an 8mm camera. I then came home one day from the hospital to find a little pile of film cans on the table with an 8mm editing machine and a note that said “Have eloped. Gone to Devon with Tony, love Suzanne. ” I didn’t know the first thing about editing. So, how did you fare by yourself? I was really delighted and loved every minute of it. Are you, in fact, glad that you started in film by being hands-on, rather than by going through a film school or taking an academic approach? Yes, though I often feel a bit uneducated. I feel I’ve had a good education, but it lacks the classical edge, if you like. Like most people who feel a lack of education one way or another, I would love to take a sabbatical and really immerse myself in the classics of both literature and film. I’m really in the mood to do that now, and I’m glad I didn’t try to do that any earlier. You do have to find your own way.

What did you do next in film? I made several 8mm films, continuing to use film as a part of drama therapy. It was mainly with the deaf and with the disabled, and at Brixton College of Further Education, with Western Indian kids. I had a ball. Then, in 1977, I came back to New Zealand and got a job again by accident I feel - with John O ’Shea at Pacific Films. I became the art director there, not knowing the first thing about it. Pacific Films in those days was a wonderful anachronism. There it was on the edge of the world and like Walt Disney’s garage in about 1938. It was a little creative group of full-time practitioners making quite a wide range of products, from com­ mercials to documentaries for television. I felt very fortunate to be a part of it. At that time, the new freelance industry was blossoming and it was obvious Pacific’s way of working would became impossible to sustain. And I did become redundant about six months later. I continued to work as an art director, while directing my own independent projects. I was a freelance cartoonist and photogra­ pher, so I sort of managed to make ends meet while I was making my films. I started making documentaries, one at a time, very slowly. After a few years of that, I went to the markets at Cannes and MIPTV to find out why my films were getting critical acclaim but not NEW

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I had worked as a producer-director up till then, so there was a certain amount of the ropes that I knew. It also wasn’t the advanced bureaucratic task that it is now to make a low-budget local feature. Robin had done quite a lot of peripheral work on crews and she, most importantly, was married to a film director [John Laing] and had supported him through several features. I thought she really knew quite a lot about what was involved. However, she didn’t have a track record as a producer. I was a first-time feature director and the concern expressed by [the late] John Booth at the time was that the Commission felt that Robin wasn’t strong enough for me. He said something like, “We’re afraid that she won’t be strong enough to pull pages out of the script.” And I said, “It’s not a telephone directory, John. You don’t need muscles. When it comes for pages to come out of the script, Robin and I will sit down and talk about it-tog ether.” And that’s exactly what we did. I must say that when we walked into rooms, we’d sit down in front of desks and the person behind the desk would still be looking at the door. It gradually dawned on us that they were waiting for the man to come in. And we had to say, “Well, there isn’t one. You’ll have to talk to us.” It’s hard to imagine that it was like that then, because things have changed so much.

HEATHER BOLTON AND DAVID LETCH IN GAYLENE PRESTON'S MR WRONG.

selling particularly well, with the exception of All T he Way Up T h ere, which was about a spastic man, Bruce Bergess, climbing Mount Ruapehu. I was completely swamped by Cannes and MIPTV. I felt really silly, like a little kid with a tiny bag of lollies in a supermarket where everything is being sold in bulk. That was a salutary experience. I decided then that I didn’t want to be an ‘ex’ independent filmmaker, so I looked for the best project I could find. And that was Mr W rong, a low-budget feature. At that time, I met Robin Laing and she produced Mr W rong with me in 1984. Since then, we have just sort of paddled a fairly odd canoe, making the films that we want to make, the way that we want to make them. And so far, so good. Whether you like the work or not, I stand by every frame of it. It’s definitely mine. There was quite a gap between M r Wrong and your next feature, Ruby and Rata,

There are no problems today? The problems today are different, as they should be. I don’t think people raise their eyebrows at female producer-director teams; I mean, that would be really silly. There are so many successful teams out there. New Zealand and Australia have a deservedly good reputation in this area. However, there are virtually no women directing commercials and very few seem to become experienced film technicians in the traditional male areas: cinematography, gaffering, gripping and sound recording. For the few who do make it, there are many who try and fail. They seem to drop out after about 18 months or gravitate towards more female areas such as tracklaying, and so on. The only time I have worked with an almost completely female crew was in Sydney when I was shooting a music clip. I just rang a crew service place and booked a crew, which turned out to be mainly women. That wouldn’t happen here.

One of the reasons was that I had a child in 1987. But in that period, I did make other films and commercials, RATA (VANESSA RARE) AND including a documentary about the writer Kerrie Hume which Thames Television commissioned me to make. Actually, the funding for Ruby and Rata was held up. We had the money committed a year before we were able to make it, which was absolutely fantastic. We were able to do a lot of work in the locations that we were going to use and I was able to storyboard 70 per cent of the film, for example. So, Ruby and R ata was made under very good circumstances. The inevitable question is how easily did you and Robin Laing, as women, enter the film industry as director and producer? Were there any difficulties particular to your being women? That was a problem when we first started working together. Even though Robin was new to produc­ ing, I thought she had all the right qualifications, and was exactly the right sort of person for me to work with.

RUBY (YVONNE LAWLEY). GAYLENE PRESTON'S RUBY A N D RATA.

BREAD A N D R O SES Was reading Sonja Davies’ autobiography the starting-point for making the mini-series? Well, I actually knew Sonja because I’d drawn cartoons for union rags. So when I read the book, I was particularly interested. I also continue to be very interested in that period, particularly around World W ar II. At that time, Robin and I had just finished Mr W rong and we were thinking that we might do a fiction based around some stories of the time. And then I read Sonja’s book and I thought, “Well, why think them up? ” A lot of the qualities of the stories we were wanting to tell were reflected in this book. We then thought more than three times before we pro­ ceeded because Sonja’s a bit of a national icon in New Zealand. She calls a spade a spade and doesn’t hide what she thinks publicly, so it’s quite a daunting task to take on someone like her. But we sort of closed our eyes and jumped, and, with the help of Genevieve Picot, we managed to pull it off. I think Genevieve Picot is just so good, and she totally dominates the film. I can’t imagine having done it without her. CHARLIE (MICK ROSE), SONJA AND PENNY (SARAH CATHIE). BREAD AND ROSES.

language. I’d know if we’d got near the truth of the matter by her reactions. She’d either laugh and add a pithy comment that I could then put in, or she’d cry, in which case I knew that it must be working about right. If she started sort of twitching, I knew there was something there that I had to find out more about. The World War II period seems to be of great interest to New Zealand filmmakers. Along with your film, there is John Laing’s Absence Without Leave and John Reid’s The Last Tattoo. Why do you think that is so? I can only speak for myself, but I think it’s a mixture of 40-year old people going back to their roots. I was born in 1947 and I grew up in the aftermath of the war, and the stories that I heard around my mother’s skirts were stories of the war. So, it’s a way of sort of making sense. An unexpected pleasure of shooting B read an d R oses was feeling really familiar with the period. There were times when I felt like you could almost bathe in it. It was a very enriching thing to be able to explore that period in such detail. You do show a great love for the detail, as in noting the birthing procedures of the day and the preference for bottle feeding. SONJA (GENEVIEVE PICOT) DURING A PROTEST. GAYLENE PRESTON'S BREAD AND ROSES.

She just claimed that rôle, which was a very demanding thing for her to take on. Apart from playing an icon, she was working with a huge range of New Zealand actors who could have chosen to be a bit unhappy about the rôle being given to an Australian. After all, it’s one of the best female rôles to be written lately. And I have to say that, due to Genevieve’s generosity and that of the New Zealand actors, we got through with flying colours. Did Davies have any involvement? Yes. She and Graeme Tetley, when he was writing the scripts, had an arrangement where he’d ring her once a week to check on things. When I was doing the last couple of drafts, I would take them out and read them to Sonja - the “Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin” way. Sonja was by that time a very busy MP and it was the only way I could be sure that she’d really read them. It was quite good doing that because I could look at her body

T hat’s right. I always felt the way Sonja tells her story is to illuminate those social changes that have made such a difference, particularly for women. For example, the way that Sonja had to have her baby was the same for thousands of women at that time. And it certainly isn’t the way that institutions were approaching childbirth when I had my baby in 1987. T hat’s very interesting to me. Is there a chance Bread and Roses will be screened theatrically in Australia? Yes, and we’re absolutely delighted. B read an d R oses is threeand-a-half-hours long and was made for television. However, after successful screenings at the New Zealand Film Festival, we distributed into cinemas here, where it had a very successful release. In Australia, Natalie Miller [Sharmill Films] has bitten the bullet, as we might say, and we’re delighted about that, because we think Natalie’s the right distributor for the film. If anyone can make a success of it, she can. NEW

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• 19

ยก | 8 i!

Peter Jackson is well-known around the w orld fo r his audacious firs t three film s, B a d T a s t e , M e e t t h e F e e b l e s and B r a i n d e a d . His next film , H e a v e n l y C r e a t u r e s , is

anticipated by many to be a m ajor departure fo r this acknow ledged g orem eiste r. H e a v e n l y C r e a t u r e s , scrip te d by Jackson and his o ft co -s c rip tw rite r Fran Walsh,

is b a s e d o n a fa m o u s 1 9 5 4 New Zealand m urder case. Two teenage girls, Pauline Parker and Juliet Hulme, who were friends, killed one of th e ir m others. 20 โ ข C I N E M A

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to Hollywood. They started to write intricate stories that were usually set around a mediaeval fantasy kingdom called Borovnia. They wrote about 12 or 13 novels in handwriting in their exercise books. Some of those sur­ vived and we have used extracts to create sequences in which the girls go into this fantasy world of Borovnia. Sometimes, too, the characters from Borovnia come into the real world. As the film progresses, and as the girls start to lose control on what is happening, things become very muddy between these two worlds. The girls, in fact, invented their own form of “Dragons and Dungeons” ?

PAULINE (MELANIE LYNSBY) AND JULIET (KATE WINSLET). PETER JACKSON’S HEAVENLY CREATURES.

What appealed to you about this particular murder case? t ’s a very interesting story and ultimately the stuff of which good films can be made. I had long been interested in the case and well before Fran and I began the script. In the 1950s, Pauline Parker and Juliet Hume were branded as possibly the most evil people on earth. What they had done seemed without rational explanation, and people could only assume that there was something terribly wrong with their minds. That is how the case has been regarded over the past 40 years. But once we started to research it, we got beneath the very sensational headlines of the day: “Lesbian Schoolgirl Killers” and so on. We had access to a lot of interviews and files that no one had seen for 40 years. As we began to uncover what was actually a very human story, we gradually came to understand what was going through their minds at the time. Pauline and Juliet were both incredibly intelligent. When they became friends, they had the ambition of being writers and going

I

Yes. They invented whole royal families with very intri­ cate relationships between queens and kings and sons. They knew who married whom, and who divorced whom, and who killed whom. Ultimately, the girls’ aim was to turn all these stories into big Hollywood movies with James Mason, Mario Lanza and all their idols. The irony is that is what we have done, 40 years later. We have filmed Pauline and Juliet’s fantasy for them, and they are both still alive, somewhere in the world. It’s a very strange experience for us. A lot of the people who were involved at the time are still alive, and I have had all sorts of anguish over whether we should have done it. Ultimately, there is no justifica­ tion. I do feel bad about having done it, and in a sense I shouldn’t have. The only justification, and it is not real justification, is that if I hadn’t made the film other people would have. There were two or three other features lined up to go based on the same case. Soon after B rain dead was screened at Cannes, we started getting faxes from a guy in New York called Tim Meyers, who was Dustin Hoffman’s assistant at Punch Productions, Hoffman’s development company. Tim said they had heard a lot about B rain dead and wanted to see it. At that stage we didn’t have a print in U.S., so we said we would get back to them. After a couple of inquiries, they eventually rang Lindsay Shelton [NZFC Marketing Director] and said they were trying to get a look at B raindead. They also asked whether the Film Commission would be prepared to invest in an American movie shot in New Zealand. Lindsay asked what it was about, and they said it was based on the true story of two girls who murdered one of their mothers. Dustin had already had a script developed in the U.S. by an American writer. They then told Lindsay they were thinking about asking me to direct it, which is why they wanted to see B raindead. It was then Lindsay told them, “Well, actually, Peter is doing his own film based on the same story.” Two or three other New Zealand filmmakers also had scripts. One was a tele-movie based on a play that came out about a year or so ago in New Zealand. It was unsympathetic towards the girls and basically just dramatized the sensational headlines of 1950s without having any regard to their being a couple of human beings. The girls must have had a reason for doing what they did - they weren’t just mad - but the play portrayed them as psychos. So, it was a story that was going to be made. And we felt that NEW

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• 21

One hears a lot of analysis of Jane Campion’s career from hindsight, as if it were perfectly structured and engineered from day one. Maybe the speculation reflects a hope that careers can be that controllable.

MELANIE LYNSBY AND DIRECTOR PETER JACKSON.

if it had to be done by somebody, we should do it properly ourselves. We knew we could do a good job of it, and that we had uncovered facts about the case which no one else had. I do feel that we have treated the whole thing with a lot of humanity. I certainly don’t feel bad about the way we are portraying it. But I do feel bad that there are people alive who don’t want it made. For them, it’s a very real tragedy. For the rest of the world, it’s a story which is rather horrible. That is why, if we had been the only people developing the film, maybe we wouldn’t have made it. Have you kept the actual names?

It depends on what the person wants to do. It all comes down to individuals. I made H eavenly Creatures not to lead onto any­ thing I just wanted to make that movie. All I want, by the end of my life, is to have made a bunch of films of which I am proud and which I had wanted to do. I don’t regard myself as a director for hire. I never have and I don’t think I ever will. I have, at odd times, flirted with the idea of going to make a film in America, but the quality of material hasn’t been up to it, and I always feel, “Hell, do I really want to lose control of the film at the vital stage? Do I want other people to have final cut? Do I want to feel like I am a employee for a studio which says, ‘We are just going to pay you to make this and then you must go away while we will finish it as we see fit? You’re just the director; you are no one else.’” PAULINE AND JULIET. HEAVESLY CREATURES.

Yes, because Pauline Parker and Juliet Hume changed their names in 1959. In a sense, they ceased to exist and for the past 30 odd years have had totally different identities. We have been extremely careful never to do or say anything about where they might be now, and we won’t. We will do anything to protect their whereabouts. The last thing I want to happen is for them to be found and exposed. But isn’t it possible the film will encourage others to find them? There is that possibility; I have to be honest about that. But it would be very difficult and I hope it never happens. They both deserve to be left alone. They probably deserve not to have a film made about them, too, but that’s just one of those things. Do you see Heavenly Creatures as a major departure for yourself? It’s a kind of departure and certainly everyone is going to see it as one. But I have no set plan for my career. To me it was simply that I was interested in making this film. It’s something new, and that is good. But I have always seen my other films as being different from each other in certain ways. This is obviously a greater leap, however. It is much more of a mainstream film; there is no doubt about that. It’s interesting that people whom I have never met have all these assumptions about my career. People immediately assume that filmmakers do things because of a grand plan. People are no doubt saying, “Oh, Jackson wants to be taken as a serious filmmaker now. He’s sick of being branded as splatter filmmaker and he wants to do arty mainstream film s.” T hat’s not true. I do intend to do other splatter films. I have intentions of doing all sorts of films. I have no interest in a ‘career’ as such. If I were really careeroriented, I’d be in Hollywood now, making Hollywood films and earning lots of money. I choose to stay in New Zealand earning a fraction of what I could make in Los Angeles because I want to do whatever I feel like doing. 22 . C I N E M A

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I don’t want to be a director as such; I want to be a filmmaker. The freedom that I have in New Zealand is worth millions of dollars to me. It is worth more than what I could earn in Hollywood. A common discussion in New Zealand concerns the talent drain to America and Australia. Why do you think so many people leave? Is it as simple as money? I don’t think it’s fair to say that everyone who has left wants to end up with more money. It’s just a question of opportunities and what they want to do with their careers. You can easily get to the stage in New Zealand where you feel as though your career cannot advance any more. That hasn’t actually happened to me, but it possibly has to other people. Ultimately, it’s an individual choice. Everybody who has left New Zealand has probably done so for totally different reasons, known only to themselves. Of the many Australians who have worked overseas, most have retained their individuality as filmmakers: George Miller, Peter Weir, Fred Schepisi and Simon Wincer, and so on. This doesn’t seem as much the case with New Zealand directors. Obviously Jane Campion is an exception, but Roger Donaldson’s and Geoff Murphy’s American work is rather impersonal. Again I think it’s up to the individual. Phillip Noyce has become a fairly mainstream director - and he is actually quite good at it, too! One problem the New Zealand film industry will always face, and I’m sure it is similar in Australia, is that when filmmakers have done their second or third features - and it’s not till you get to your second or third film that I believe you actually start to get the confidence you need and begin to learn from your mistakes - they leave to go overseas. This means the film industry is perpetually new; its infancy is never ending. There never seems to be an established base of experienced directors who stay in the country, making better and better movies, which is what should happen. That highlights the unrealistic and ever-present expectation one finds in New Zealand and Australia for better box-office results. If a country is dependent on new people all the time, how can one expect instant results? After all, while The Piano is a hit, Sweetie hasn’t recouped its budget. You’re absolutely right. People do expect too much from first­ time filmmakers. There is a lot of very exciting young directors in New Zealand - particularly of short films. The New Zealand film industry will ultimately be great when all these young directors get to make three, four or five movies in New Zealand. But will it ever happen? The pattern that is so entrenched is that people will cut their teeth here by making their first movie, with all its mistakes, then making a second film, which will be kind of good and a moderate success, and then, wham, leaving for overseas to make art films in America. We are then back to square one. T hat’s the pattern and I don’t know what we can do about it.

HILDA HULME (DIANA KENT) AND HENRY HULME (CLIVE MERRISON). HEAVENLY CREATURES.

them. I want to be in the position where I can say, “Okay, I will do a bigger budget film, but I want to shoot it in New Zealand and I want to retain control.” What I imagine might happen is that I carry on as I’m now, but have access to money in excess of what the Film Commission could ever supply. H eavenly Creatures was more than halffinanced by German money [the Film Commission put up the rest]. We are now talking to that same German company about other films in the future. It is a distinct advantage if the Film Commission can help films get made by only having to put up half or less of the budget. That will allow many more films to be made. That is why what is happening with me at the moment is so encouraging. Having seen some ten New Zealand films in as many days, the first thing that strikes one is their absolute distinctiveness from Aus­ tralian films. Clearly New Zealanders are very different from Australians, and in some positive ways. [Faughs.] Yes, okay. Go on.

Do you think you can afford to remain based in New Zealand?

The most striking thing about New Zealand films is the number of eccentric, if not insane, characters. One thinks of your own work, The End o f the Golden Weather, Jack Be Nimble, Desper­ ate Remedies, The Piano, et al. Why is there this streak of insanity? Is it out there in real life as well?

I don’t see why not. I just want to get to a stage where people in the States, or wherever, genuinely want me to make movies for

I have absolutely no idea. I know what you mean, but I have no idea. NEW

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SUPPLEMENT

. 23

have entered the film industry who weren’t around back then. They haven’t had that opportunity I had. People just think that you sit down and write a feature; that if you get down a hundred pages and muddle through the story, then it’s going to make a good movie. But it won’t. It has to be a very, very carefully-structured document. People in New Zealand just don’t understand that. With some exceptions, the film industry in New Zealand is run by individuals. Often they’re directors and sometimes they write the scripts themselves, or they have a friend who is a scriptwriter write them. It’s all just individuals with the idea that they want to write a film. Very rarely is there a writer who knows how to write screenplays, who actually writes one and sends it off to a pro­ ducer, who then gets a director and says, “Read this.” I don’t think our feature film industry is an industry at all. Four features a year is a cottage industry. It’s run by people who are doing the very best they can, but without any of the formal structure that a real industry has. Ultimately, though, that could be the strength of the New Zealand cinema. We can’t compete with what the Americans are doing and perhaps our strength lies in the fact that ours are individual movies made by people who really badly want to make films. But somewhere along the line people should learn a little bit more about the structure of storytelling. Could that lack of the industry structure be one reason why directors are so easily tempted away? Alison Maclean made one feature, Crush, and then it was off to America. PAULINE. HEAVEhlLY CREATURES.

We are not really good at making very down-to-earth, realistic drama films. What we call dramas are usually off-beat, eccentric and slightly larger-than-life. Since I like making films that are slightly larger-than-life, I tend to use larger-than-life characters. Is there a strain of social realism out there? Well, people have attempted it, but not very successfully. It’s just something we are not very good at. I don’t know why. I personally think the greatest weakness in New Zealand films is the scriptwriting. There are good directors, but whether or not we are ever going to get proficient at writing scripts I don’t know. A lot of New Zealand filmmakers, including scriptwriters, don’t seem very well versed in the basics of the craft of writing a story structure. That, more than anything, drags New Zealand films down and makes them non-competitive. We have a terrible insecurity about our culture. We are terribly protective of it and feel we shouldn’t be making American movies. That somehow gets perverted into a sense we shouldn’t be using American story structure techniques, because they would threaten our cultural identity. That is a load of rubbish. My biggest break in learning about writing came five years ago when the Film Commission brought out an American, Robert McKee, for a three-day seminar. Robert is a story structure expert and he lectures on this around the world. I’ve never looked back since in terms of writing. I’m learning all the time, and I’m not saying I know what I’m doing yet, but I certainly have a lot more understanding of what I’m supposed to do. Attending his confer­ ence was a major change for me and I personally think he should be brought out every year. There are a whole lot of people who 24 • C I N E M A

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Yes, there is a certain excitement and pace in Los Angeles, where films are being made all the time. If you have success, you can be starting another film the minute you finish the previous one. If all you want to do is just direct movies, then L.A. is a great place to be. You will work with big stars, with big publicity machines, and it will be all terribly exciting. In New Zealand, there is none of that. Here you make a film and there is a tremendous amount of doubt whether you are ever going to make another one. It is entirely possible in New Zealand that once you finish a film it could be two or more years before you do another one; that’s just how long the process can take. What I’m trying to do is overlap things. I’m trying to prepare my next film while I’m still cutting this. I don’t want to be in a situation where it takes me so long to get a film off the ground that I’m hanging around doing nothing. New Zealand hasn’t the adrenalin and excitement that L.A. has. Maybe that is the answer to your earlier question. Maybe what does appeal to people about America is the fact that you can get films made without any problem. S P E C IA L

EFFECTS

Peter Jackson is vitally interested in being at the forefront of technology. While not being, as he says, especially computerliterate, he has sought out and bought (with others) the latest hardware and software so that he can use the most up-to-date computer-generated special effects. At WingNut Productions in Wellington, Jackson has installed the only complete system in the Southern Hemisphere for going (at maximum quality) from film to video, and back to film, having manipulated the video image on the computer.

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The film is transferred to video at a staggeringly slow three minutes per frame (that’s 12 hours for a ten-second shot!) on an Oxberry Cinescan 6300. The frame is uniformly lit by a mass of fibre optics. The video image is sent to a Silicon Graphics computer running Renderman, Soft Image and M atador software. Here, George Port, who works with Jackson, does what manipulation is re­ quired - be it matting in a different fragment of image, correcting a flaw (a television aerial in a period image), or morphing from a rock to a statue. Once finished, the video image is projected onto a cathode-ray tube and filmed (by a M G I Solitaire with an Oxberry movie back) at the much faster rate of three seconds a frame. Having gone so precisely from film and back again, it has little to no video ‘look’, except in some areas of retouching. That in itself is not necessarily a defect for the slight artificiality can be used to noticeable effect (as in the very obviously painted lighthouse in The Age o f Innocence) or inconspicuously, as when the fantastic edge blends imperceptibly with the fantasy of the film itself (as appears the case in Heavenly Creatures). •••

Jackson: While there is some morphing and a whole range of special effects in Heavenly Creatures, it’s not a special-effects movie. Certainly the other films I’ve made have been effects films and everybody talks about the effects in them. But I imagine most reviews of Heavenly Creatures won’t even mention the effects. They are not that ostentatious or prominent. M ost people won’t even realize they are effects. About a year ago, I was in Los Angeles visiting some friends and I got to look at some computer things that were happening there. Jurassic Park [Stephen Spielberg, 1993] was being made at the time. I didn’t see any of that, but I spoke to people who had seen some shots from it and were going on about it. I began to realize that for someone like myself, who obviously enjoys special-effects movies, has to at some point get into all this stuff. I’m the least computer-oriented person in the world. I can manage to turn on my laptop and press the Save button, but I can’t really go beyond that. I’m utterly hopeless. But I felt I had to investigate this further. We used Heavenly Creatures as an opportunity to actually use some digital effects. We got equipment and set up a small operation in the next room. One of the things we have done in Heavenly Creatures is have a character who is black and white, while the rest of the people and the backgrounds are in colour. That is a digital effect; we painted him black and white, frame by frame. There are a lot of situations where we fiddled with locations as well. We were shooting in a house that was part of the real story in the 1950s, but in the meantime its large open balcony had been glassed in. There was no way the owner was going to let us rip the balcony out, so we shot a separate balcony that we built in a studio and matted the two together on the computer. People won’t realize these and others are effects shots. They are seamless. We are learning a lot about digital effects and next year I want to do a really big effects movie using all this stuff. Heavenly Creatures has been a gentle way of easing into it. Australia and New Zealand make films at the low end of the

JULIET. HEAVENLY CREATURES.

market because local filmmakers can’t afford to make the more advanced, expensive films. But the technology you are talking about will change that. Expensive opticals will no longer hold people back. Absolutely. It is much easier to do effects with computers. Everybody gets frightened and says, “Jurassic Park cost $60m . How could we ever do that? ” But films like Jurassic Park are going to bring the costs right down because of all that research and development, which is where they spent their money. In the next few years, all the gear and the software is going to drop right down in price and be available to everybody. As you say, this stuff is much simpler to use and much easier and cheaper than optical effects ever were. Anyway, I don’t think there is any lab in Australasia that can do decent blue-screen matting. You have to go to L.A. or London. But we can do perfect blue screens in the room next door at a press of a button. We have all that at our fingertips now. I don’t see the new technology as meaning everybody is going to make big effects movies. It just means filmmaking has become a lot easier. In that it removes some of the restrictions? Yes. It removes all the restrictions. There is nothing that you can’t do. I really believe that. The simplest way that it can be used is if you are shooting a period movie in the street and there is a bunch of TV aerials in shot. You can just shoot and then digitally remove the TV aerials later. You can remove a skyscraper or a car - you can even remove actors if you want to. It’s a total 100% manipulation of a frame of film. It’s a tool and people will be able to use it for drama films as much as you could use it for effects films. • ••

HEW

ZEALAND

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T This was clearly demonstrated at a series of workshops Jackson gave during the Conference. With ten or so people crammed into the computer room at WingNut, Jackson and George Port went through several shots from H eavenly Creatures. First up was the balcony. Jackson showed a still frame of the balcony as shot in the studio, with an actress in frame. This was then matted over an external shot of the real house with the glassed-in balcony. The same lens was used at exactly the same distance. Interestingly, when the studio balcony was matted in, it was noted that there was no shadow thrown by the eaves (the shadow having fallen on that part of the old balcony which was matted out; no one had thought to recreate it in the studio). No problem: Port simply painted in the shadow to make it look realistic. The image manipulation was simple, but it solved a very real problem: the impossibility of structurally changing a pre-deter­ mined location to what one needed. It was a real pity, then, that on the bus back to the IPDG Conference one New Zealand filmmaker complained about computer technology, adding, “There will always be a need for real films with real people.” Of course, and computer technology will simply make them easier, and often cheaper, to make. This is not an area to fear (save for the ethics of replacing Vivien Leigh with Julia Roberts in G on e with the Wind - all one needs is one frame of Roberts’ face - but that is a separate issue.) After showing some more complex mattes (a church interior where a small number of extras were placed in various positions, filmed, and the separate shots invisibly melded into one), Jackson moved on to some more ‘traditional’ effects. One involved a character from the fantasy world of Borovnia. A “plasticine man”, as he was referred to, was caught by the falling gate to the castle. This was a model shot done frame by frame. To keep the head of the plasticine man above the ground, a metal rod was used. Now, in the computer, that rod was being removed. By dragging the mouse’s pointer over small sections of the rod at a time, the computer melded a fraction of image from the left of the rod with some from the right, then blurred where they join. Jackson then showed a model castle matted realistically into a New Zealand field or, even more striking, a rose garden (with actors) from the central business district of Christchurch relo­ cated to a remote and grassy hill overlooking the sea. The final sample was the morphing (that invisible progression from one object to another, as in the famous Michael Jackson video). Here a black rock (itself a model matted onto a separate background) turns into a white marble statue. One had merely (but carefully) to map various points on the rock and link them to various points on the statue (separately shot) - maybe 25 in all. One need only then tell the computer how long the morph should take. Jackson also showed a composite image from John Reid’s The L ast T a tto o , where onto a night-time shot of Wellington Harbour were matted various models of American warships and a full moon (taken from a slide loaned by the Wellington Observatory). The result was a stunning solution to a shot impossible to recreate out in the real world. To close the session, Jackson moved everyone to the front room where these finished shots were shown on a Steenbeck. The results were striking, the whole computer process a dazzlingly simple way of correcting, or adding to, the visual impact of a film. 30 . C I N E M A

PAPERS

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h e N e w Z e a la n d film i n d u s t r y m o u r n s t h e lo s s o f J im B o o t h , o n e o f its

m o s t s u c c e s s f u l film p r o d u c e r s , a f t e r a v a lia n t s t r u g g le a g a in s t c a n c e r . A

f o r m e r E x e c u t iv e D ir e c t o r o f t h e N e w Z e a la n d Film

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C o m m is s io n ( N Z F C ) , J im B o o t h <

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s p e n t 2 0 y e a r s f o r k i n g in t h e f ie ld o f t h e a rts a n d c u lt u r e , b o t h a s a n a d m in is t r a t o r a n d a p r a c t it io n e r . O v e r th e p a s t five y e a rs , B o o th p r o d u c e d th re e film s d ire c t e d b y P e te r Ja c k s o n : Meet the Feebles, Braindead a n d th e y e t -t o -b e -r e le a s e d Heavenly Creatures. T h e s e film s h ave a c h ie v e d in te rn a tio n a l c o m m e rc ia l a n d c re a tiv e s u c c e s s , w ith s tro n g b o x -o f f ic e re tu rn s a n d m a n y a w a rd s t o th e ir c re d it. "Jim 's c o m m itm e n t t o N e w Z e a la n d c in e m a w a s to ta l", said P e te r Ja c k s o n . “H e w a s first a n d fo re m o s t a f rie n d , a n d w a s w o n d e rfu l t o w o rk w ith . T h e m o vie s w e m a d e h e lp e d a lo t o f p e o p le w a k e u p to th e fa c t th a t N e w Z e a la n d is p r o d u c in g o rig in a l, u n c o m p ro m is in g a n d h ig h ly -p ro fe s s io n a l e n te rta in m e n t."

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B o o th w a s h ig h ly re g a rd e d b y his p e e rs a n d c o lle a g u e s , a n d trib u te s t o his w o rk a n d c h a ra c te r h ave p o u r e d in to his o ffic e in W e llin g to n , w h e re p o s t -p r o d u c t io n o n Heavenly

Creatures c o n tin u e s . "Jim w a s a re m a rk a b le m a n , full o f q u ic k , live ly id e a s, a lw a ys a le rt t o w h a t m ig h t b e p o s s ib le ", sa id D avid G a s g o in e , fo rm e r C h a irm a n o f th e N Z FC . "H e w a s an e n c o u ra g e r, c a rry in g p e o p le fo rw a rd o n a w a v e o f e n th u s ia sm a n d g o o d h u m o u r." E x e cu tive D ire c to r o f N Z O n A ir, Ruth H a rle y , sa id, "H is e n e rg y , in te g rity , v is io n a n d s u b v e rs iv e s e n se o f fu n m a d e him a p le a s u re t o w o rk w ith a n d a d e lig h tfu l frie n d ." Jim B o o th ’s w o rk in th e film in d u s try w a s th e c u lm in a tio n o f a lo n g c a re e r in th e arts fie ld . In 1 9 7 7 , h e w a s o n e o f th e p e o p le in stru m e n ta l in s e ttin g u p th e Film C o m m is s io n , a n d w a s its first inte rim D ire c to r. B o o th th e n t o o k u p th e p o s itio n o f D e p u ty D ire c to r o f th e A rts C o u n c il, w h e re h e w a s re s p o n s ib le f o r th e d e v e lo p m e n t o f c o m m u n ity A rts p ro g ra m m e s . In 1 9 8 3 , h e w a s a p p o in t e d E xe cu tive D ire c to r o f th e N ZFC , a p o s itio n h e h e ld till 1 9 8 8 . D u rin g th is tim e , s o m e 2 7 fe a tu re film s w e re p r o d u c e d in N e w Z e a la n d a n d s w e e p in g c h a n g e s w e re m a d e t o b o t h th e p r o d u c t io n a n d fina ncia l e n v iro n m e n t in w h ic h th e film in d u s try o p e ra te d . T h e S h o rt Film F u n d w a s e s ta b lis h e d , in c lu d in g th e p ro g ra m m e o f B o n za i e p ic s . T ra in in g s ch e m e s , th e P O D S d e v e lo p m e n t p ro g ra m m e , s c rip t a n d p ro je c t d e v e lo p m e n t w e re in tro d u c e d . In 1 9 8 7 , B o o th b y -p a s s e d th e c a u tio u s N ZFC b u re a u c ra c y a n d e n s u re d th a t a y o u n g film m a ke r, P e te r Ja c k s o n , w a s g iv e n fina ncia l s u p p o r t t o c o m p le t e his first film , Bad Taste. B o o th 's risk p a id o f f w h e n th e film w e n t t o C a n n e s , c re a te d a stir, a n d m a d e a p ro f it w ith in th re e d a y s o f C a n n e s sales. T h e f o llo w in g y e a r B o o th le ft th e N ZFC a n d b e g a n th e p a rtn e rs h ip w ith P e te r Ja c k s o n th a t c re a te d th e c o n tro v e rs ia l c u lt film s Meet the

Feebles a n d Braindead. T h e ir la te st c o lla b o ra tio n is Heavenly Creatures, d u e t o b e re le a s e d in N e w Z e a la n d in Ju ly . It is " a lre a d y a c o m m e rc ia l s u c c e ss , h a v in g b e e n a c q u ire d f o r in te rn a tio n a l d is trib u tio n b y th e m a jo r U .S . c o m p a n y , M iram ax. "Jim a n d I h a ve c re a te d an in te rn a tio n a lly w e ll-k n o w n film m a k in g te a m , w h ic h w ill c o n tin u e t o b e n e fit th e N e w Z e a la n d film in d u s try f o r m a n y y e a rs t o c o m e ", c o m m e n ts Ja c k s o n . "A s a p r o d u c e r , Jim w a s in his e le m e n t as a k in d o f b u re a u c ra tic p ira te , w o rk in g w ith in th e s y ste m , b u t a lw a ys p re p a re d t o ta k e risks a n d s u b v e rt it. His in flu e n c e o n m e w a s s o g re a t, I k n o w th a t f o r th e re s t o f m y life, e v e ry p ro fe s s io n a l d e c is io n I m a ke w ill b e p re fa c e d w ith th e th o u g h t , ‘W h a t w o u ld Jim d o n o w ? ’" Jim s p e n t his last d a y s a t th e M a ry P o tte r H o s p ic e , a tt e n d e d b y his p a rtn e r, S u e R o g e rs , his s o n s N ic k a n d S im o n , S u e 's c h ild re n a n d c lo s e frie n d s .

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T H E R E IS A W ID E S P R E A D V IE W IN T H E N E W Z E A L A N D FILM IN D U S T R Y T H A T T H E PUBLIC N O L O N G E R H A S T H E S A M E IN TE R E S T IN ITS IN D IG E N O U S C IN E M A . IN M O S T C A S E S , T H E R E S P O N S IB IL IT Y IS L A ID A T T H E F ILM M A K E R S ’ FEET. A S S O U T H PACIFIC P IC TU R E S ’ J O H N B A R N E T T S A Y S , "W IT H S O M E E X C E P T IO N S , W E H A V E N T M A D E M A N Y FILMS T H A T P E O P LE H A V E W A N T E D T O S E E ." 1 W E LL , W H A T IS T H E S I T U A T IO N ? C E R T A IN L Y T H E F O L L O W IN G C H A R T O F “ H IT " FILMS S U G G E S T S A R E TH IN K .2 D E F IN IN G A " H IT " A S A M O V IE T H A T H A S M A D E IT I N T O T H E T O P 1 2 N E W Z E A L A N D FILMS EVER A T T H E B O X O FFIC E , T H E S IN G L E -H IT Y E A R S H A V E B E E N 1 9 7 8 , ’8 0 , *81, ’8 2 , ’8 3 , '8 6 , ’9 0 , ’9 1 , ’9 2 A N D ’93 - T H A T IS, N IN E O U T O F 16 Y E A R S . T H E T W O -H I T Y E A R S A R E 1 9 8 5 A N D ’8 8 . SEE C H A R T 1.

iven the facts (11 hit years out of 16), it is quite clear there is a remarkable evenness about the spread of hits, with a slight peaking in 1985-88 and a reassuring steadiness in 1990-93. Certainly one cannot say the filmmakers have lost the sense of what makes a hit. W hat is also clear, however, is that the box-office takings vary greatly. Taking the total box-office of only the hits in each year, one can see that the best years were 1981 ($1.6 million), ’85 ($1.45m ), ’86 ($2.2m ) and ’93 ($1.7m ). See Chart 2. Clearly, the peaks and valleys are quite significant. But it still doesn’t quite explain the view that filmmakers have lost their audience. As it happens, this criticism has been widely and consistently stated for more than a decade. In 1980, for example, the then Chairman of the New Zealand Film Commission (NZFC), Bill Sheat, said:

G

One of the things we have to do [...] is to think in much more commercial terms. [...] New Zealand filmmakers should make films for people who come to the cinema with no prior knowledge or understanding of New Zealand. I don’t think that is necessarily going to harm their integrity; it’s just a question of making sure that you are getting your message across.3 In 1993, when asked why he was outspoken about the standard of recent New Zealand cinema, Sheat replied: The answer is demonstrated by their lack of success in the cinemas.

CHART %

There have been exceptions - An Angel at My Table is one, but it didn’t start out as a theatrical movie. I can’t recall a recent success that equals those of Sleeping Dogs [Roger Donaldson, 1977] and G oodbye Pork Pie [Geoff Murphy, 1981]. The pictures we made in the early days of the NZFC had good, solid runs in the cinemas. We haven’t had anything like that for a long time. Somehow or other the filmmakers have missed the audience. We really ought to go back and find out what the audience really wants to see. When asked whether there was a greater catering to audiences during the tax period than in the public-funding era, Sheat replied, “No, the majority of the films made during the tax period were pretty terrible.” Taking a similar view is the new N ZFC Chairman Phil Pryke, who feels a need to return to basics. A film’s audience must be considered from the very outset and made an integral part of every package and presentation from script treatment on. Thinking about marketing only when a film is finished, as can be the case, is far too late. In his speech at the November 1993 Independent Producers and Directors Guild Conference in Wellington, Pryke said: Another key area the Film Commission is considering is audience development - in particular, the value and interest that each film project has for the domestic market. NEW

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We want to bolt down quite securely ways that production in fact a cultural film: Jane Campion’s life of Janet Frame [An companies, distributors and exhibitors can ensure an optimum Angel at My T able, 1990].’ This is a very useful point to be able level of audience and public awareness of their project - during the to make, although the debate will always go on. production process and when it comes to distribution. How much, though, do New Zealand films contribute cultur­ I, for my part, would like to see clear and detailed marketing ally at home and how much to a understanding of New Zealand plans attached to each project, at the time of application. around the world? Many would argue a great deal, but Bill Sheat The Commission already commits money within the produc­ differs: tion budget to publicity and materials, but I think we need to look If nobody goes to see them at the cinemas, then they are not a lot more closely at how that is tagged, and also at whether the contributing anything towards the culture of New Zealand. You funds we make available for theatrical release are adequate or have to make pictures that people want to see. appropriate in the highly competitive domestic distribution envi­ I know what the culture argument is, and I believe in it, but you ronment in which the industry now operates. can’t just give somebody a couple of million dollars to make a picture that nobody wants to see. That’s not a contribution of any C U LTU R E VERSUS COM M ER CE significant value. Whenever the failure of New Zealand films at the box office is mentioned, there is usually widespread criticism of the quality of the films. But Pryke does not agree: We have every reason to be proud of our product. And Pm sick and tired of the automatic put-down of New Zealand films by some domestic critics. We have no reason for any form of cultural cringe. [...]

But benefits are very hard to measure. Jane Campion’s Sw eetie (1989), for example, has still not broken even but it was clearly a necessary step in a development that led to An A ngel at My T ab le and then the runaway worldwide success of T he P iano (1993). How can anyone begrudge a loss on Sw eetie when one has T he P ia n o ? Sheat:

The N Z FC ’s director of marketing and sales, Lindsay Shelton, adds:

Oh, sure. But Sweetie probably didn’t cost a couple of million dollars. There has to be those, but maybe only one to a customer.

When, as always, the debate goes on about whether we should make commercial films or cultural films, and someone says you shouldn’t make cultural films because they don’t make money, you should only make commercial films because they make money, you can say, ‘Excuse me, the records show that the most profitable film that the Film Commission has ever invested in was

Phil Pryke is certainly clear in his mind: To be absolutely blunt, I want it to be very clear that the cultural obligations of the Commission rank equally in my mind with its commercial and organizational responsibilities. And when I say cultural, I mean embracing all aspects of the cultural diversity of New Zealand.

THE TALENT DRAIN O N E C O M M O N L Y C IT E D F A C T O R F O R T H E P E R C E IV E D D O W N T U R N IN IN T E R E S T IN N E W Z E A L A N D FIL M S IS T H E T A L E N T D R A IN . T H E D E P A R T U R E O V E R S E A S O F M A N Y T O P N E W Z E A L A N D D IR E C T O R S A N D A C T O R S H A S L O N G B E E N O N E O F T H E T O P IN D U S T R Y IS S U E S .

11 all began with Roger Donaldson, as Lindsay Shelton recounts: Roger left New Zealand quite suddenly. The New York reviews of Smash Palace [1982] were so fantastic that they were enough to draw him to the attention of the Hollywood hierarchy, who very quickly took him over to Los Angeles, which is something Roger always wanted to do. His career has been immensely successful. Donaldson was followed overseas by Geoff Murphy, Sam Pillsbury, David Blyth, Vincent Ward, Jane Campion, Alison Maclean and others. Shelton: 32 • C I N E M A

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Initially, I imagined that everybody in the film industry would be like Ingmar Bergman and would have extraordinary life-time careers making New Zealand movies in New Zealand. I wasn’t really cognisant of the realities of the international movie business. It now is something which I understand and accept, because each time someone moves on, there is more opportunity for a newcomer to emerge and be discovered and make films here. John Barnett adds: The talent drain has undoubtedly had an impact. The real problem

is that we’ve never had the infrastructure to keep them here. You are never going to be able to fight the lure of Hollywood, which has always been one of the most cosmo­ politan towns in the world. It has always encouraged people from around the world, right from the 1920s. If you are successful, they want you to come and be successful on their patch. And why should a film­ maker remain barefoot and pregnant at home when some­ body is offering them a lot of money to go somewhere else? Or, as Bill Sheat says, “How GEOFF MURPHY, RIGHT, DIRECTS MICK JAGGER DURING THE FILMING OF THE U.S. FREEJACK. are you going to keep them down on the farm once they have seen Hollywood? It’s an On that subject, it was curious to note that Vincent Ward’s fourinsoluble problem.” country co-production, Map o f the Human Heart [1993], which Phil Pryke argues: has not an ounce of New Zealand content apart from a tiny bit of initial development from us, is clearly identified in its international At the end of the day, you can’t bond people, and you shouldn’t. release as being by a New Zealand director. I rest my case. If you can produce talent that goes on to bigger and better things Barnett agrees: offshore, they are still carrying the flag of New Zealand. You can still take an enormous amount of pride in what they produce. Jane The New Zealand industry is best known for Jane Campion, who Campion is the classic example. Sure she got most of her training has not done a New Zealand project apart from An Angel at My in Australia, and she is resident there, but she came back to make Table, Vincent Ward, Roger Donaldson and Geoff Murphy, none a movie in New Zealand, and does it with French funding. That’s of whom live in New Zealand. Then there are the actors: Russell great as far as I’m concerned. Crowe, who has never made a picture in New Zealand, and Sam Neill, who has only made two. Bill Sheat disagrees: Sure, but having developed Jane Campion we let her get away. Once the success of An Angel at My Table was obvious, why didn’t the Film Commission say to her, ‘Here is a cheque. You fill in the amount and make a picture here in New Zealand.’ How did she get away? Why did she get away? Those are real questions. Even if Jane didn’t want to work with financial support from New Zealand, at least it should have been offered. When it is suggested that would have taken the entire NZFC budget for the year, Sheat replies: Yes, and we would have got it back again twice over. We could have made that many more pictures the next time. But when you are in a situation where the Film Commission believes it has some general obligation to support as many people as it can, taking that kind of gamble is not considered appropriate. As the man who has to sell New Zealand films to the world, would Lindsay Shelton find it easier if the best directors worked at home? Shelton: Yes, but even if they were continuing to make movies in New Zealand, as their reputations grow, it’s likely that the finance for their movies will come from other sources. The best example is Jane Campion’s finance on The Piano all coming from France. So, when movies are being financed from elsewhere than New Zealand, that is the stage where the selling of the movies will move into the hands of the offshore people who finance them. At that point, we can rest happy in the knowledge the directors are clearly recognized internationally as New Zealand directors.

NEW TALENT This talent drain means that New Zealand is in the constant situation of having to renew itself. While the industry would be unquestionably stronger if the experienced directors worked at home, there are new talents coming on. Judith McCann, executive director of the NZFC until January 1994, explains: There were ten short films in Competition at Cannes in 1993 and two of them were from New Zealand. That’s representative of the extraordinary talent that comes out of this small population - and there’s more on the way. That is one of the reasons that New Zealand, for a very small country, has established such a high international profile for feature films. It’s been a process of maintaining the level of feature film production, encouraging both new directors and the more experi­ enced directors like Peter Jackson, who wants to continue making films here. There is a view worldwide, though, that the primary function of public funding is to help launch young filmmakers onto the international stage, after which they should be able to fend for themselves. Film bodies are not necessarily there as a lifetime support mechanism. When this was put to Lindsay Shelton, he replied: If you look at the records of NZFC investment, you will certainly find that if someone has demonstrated some talent with their first feature, we will undoubtedly participate in their second and in some cases their third and their fourth.

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FINANCING A S D IS C U S S E D IN “A S H O R T H IS T O R Y O F FILM IN N E W Z E A L A N D : 1 9 7 8 -1 9 9 4 " , T H É M O S T D R A M A T IC N E G A T I V E E F F E C T O F T H E T A X FIL M P E R IO D W A S T H E A L M O S T C O M P L E T E W IT H D R A W A L O F P R IV A T E I N V E S T M E N T . T H R E E K E Y F IG U R E S F R O M D IF F E R E N T A R E A S O F T H E IN D U S T R Y W E R E A S K E D F O R T H E IR V IE W S O N W H E T H E R T H E Y C O U L D EVER SEE A R E T U R N O F P R IV A T E IN V E S T M E N T . T H E F IR S T W A S L A W Y E R BILL S H E A T :

t can only be done by sterilizing the tax situa­ tion. And the only way to do that is for tax implica­ tions of film investment to be clearly spelt out in the Income Tax Act. I’m not suggesting greater conces­ sions - in today’s climate, that’s not on - but we should retain whatever concessions exist now for one-year write-offs. We must create a regime that says, ‘Structure the fi­ nances of your film in ac­ BILL SHEAT, LAWYER AND FORMER CHAIRMAN OF THE NZFC. cordance with this formula and you will be clean.’ If the investors could be assured of that, maybe some of them can be enticed back into the industry. Of course, the other way to achieve this is for the New Zealand film industry to have a runaway hit. Then everyone will want to invest in films. But I don’t know which is the more difficult: creating this stupendous hit or amending the tax system?

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With whom does Sheat believe the responsibility for changing things around rests: the filmmakers or the NZFC? It’s very difficult to say. The Commission has said that it wants to invest in films that are commercially successful, but that’s a contradiction because it is very hard to make very commercial films for less than $15m or $20m. We are not providing that kind of funding for filmmaking in New Zealand. So, how are we ever going to make commercial films? The answer to the problem is for the Film Commission to somehow get better at picking winners. Here one again runs into the effects of the talent drain. It is hard to find winners with $1 -2m features by first-time directors. Sheat: I was reminded yesterday of something I said when I finished up at the Film Commission: ‘At least I won’t have to read all those dreadful scripts.’ I guess that is the problem really: the quality of the material coming forward. How do you improve it? Obviously, you have to be very tough on selecting projects, and, if there aren’t any really worth doing, don’t do them. Don’t just have movies made for the sake of having a couple of films to take to Cannes next year. This desire to spend to the limit of its budget is probably true of public film bodies the world over. Perhaps they fear govern­ ment will take unspent monies back. As a result, they sometimes go into films about which they have significant doubts. Sheat: Exactly. But they should be brave enough to say, ‘We are only 34 . C I N E M A

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going to invest in one film this year’, or even braver and say, ‘We are not going to invest in any this year, because there is nothing that is really good enough.’ What are Judith M cCann’s views on a turnaround in private financing? McCann: We made a couple of quite formal attempts four and a half years ago, when interest rates were still high, to combine private investment and Film Commission support, because the Film Commission is non-taxable. I think it will take a few more seriously strong commercial successes before private investors see there is the potential to make money. There is always the potential for blue sky [enormous profits]. There was Strictly Ballroom [Baz Luhrmann, 1993] and The Piano in Australia. We have to get a couple of our own, and we will. An Angel at My Table is in profit, and there are others which are very close to breaking even. But it’s taken a long time, the risks are high and it’s a fortuitous financing market out there. John Barnett takes a quite optimistic view: At the moment, if you have a $1.5m picture, the Commission is putting all the money up. In reality, it may only get $300,000 back. So it costs $1.2m. Maybe you are better off to go to the Commission and say, ‘Just put $1.2m in and let the private investor take the first $300,0003 The Commission is no worse off, and we have started to encourage a private investor. He gets his money back and he starts to think about going bigger. The other obvious thing about this scenario is that the Commis­ sion has been putting out $ 1 .5m and waiting 18 months to get that $300,000 back. Now it only needs put up $1.2m. If it has $6m to invest a year, it can now make five films instead of four. If these realities are presented to the Commission, you’ll find that private investment will come in. There is a bit of interest at present. We are finding people who are interested in putting money back into film. What might then become a sustainable level of production? Barnett: Geoff Murphy used to say we can only make four or five films a year. I reckon we can make eight or nine. I don’t think there is any limit to television, because we have Australian technicians to draw on. South Pacific [a wholly-owned subsidiary of Television New Zealand] turned over $30m this year. I don’t think it’s impossible for us to turn over $50m next year.

LOCAL INVESTMENT (TELEVISION) If one can’t get interest from private investors, what about from television? The N ZFC has continued to encourage film producers to seek investment from sources other than itself, because it has

always thought it unhealthy to be a 100% investor. Lindsay Shelton believes producers have succeeded at this, though not from private investors in New Zealand, for two reasons: Their first success was in persuading television that it was relevant for television money to be invested in feature films. Television had been holding out against that for many years. For most of the 1980s, television was reluctant to invest in features because it said features were features and television was television, and never the two should meet. The first one I can think of was The End o f the Golden W eather [Ian Mune, 1991], where the television investment came in fact through South Pacific Pictures. South Pacific Pictures is really the inheritor of the old TVN Z drama department, in the days now long gone when drama was all done in-house. T V N Z closed down the drama department and set up its own free-standing, wholly-owned subsidiary. Shelton: South Pacific has done an immense amount of television drama production, much of it in co-production with Canadian compa­ nies. The then head of production at South Pacific, Don Reynolds, who had been Larry Parr’s partner in Mirage, and who always had a predilection toward features, was able to persuade them that The End o f the G olden W eather was a worthy feature to get involved in. South Pacific put up quite a large chunk of the budget, with the NZFC as a big investor. The third amount of investment money came from New Zealand On Air, which used to be known as The Broadcasting Commission, but retitled itself so that it could improve its public image. A television licence fee has been collected in New Zealand since the beginnings of television, and used to be handed over to the State monopoly. Once private television started, apparently no one could decide how the licence fee should be divided between private and the State, so the Broadcasting Commission was handed the entire licence fee and given the responsibility of spending it on local programming. It will understandably only invest in something which has a committed broadcaster, so the South Pacific deal for T he E n d o f the G old en W eather included South Pacific getting Television New Zealand to commit to be a broadcaster. At that point, New Zealand On Air put some investment into the film as well. Shelton: So, it is possible to finance a movie with Film Commission money, with TV New Zealand money through South Pacific, and with NZ On Air money triggered if there is a committed broadcaster. There have now been a number of films structured like this. As the multitude of logos on many recent New Zealand films attests.

OFFSHORE INVESTMENT If private investment, except from television, has dried up in New Zealand, then producers must look offshore for some financing. Lindsay Shelton: Producers continued from the late 1980s to seek offshore invest­ ment. Many people failed to find it, and many people, including me, thought maybe they are never going to find it. But suddenly in the current period two producers succeeded in breaking through. [The late] Jim Booth got a substantial amount of investment from Senator in Germany, run by a guy called Hanno Huth, for Peter

Jackson’s fourth movie, Heavenly Creatures. Peter had estab­ lished an immense cult following with his three gore/horror comedies, but that following was restricted by the nature of the films: the audiences would go so far and no further. At the same time, everybody in the international film industry could see that this was a director of immense talent as a cinematic storyteller. So Peter and Jim made the decision for Peter’s fourth film that Peter would do an amazing career switch. And it was the talent of Peter, plus a very good script, that brought in the money from Germany, and which sat alongside the NZFC’s money. The second film is The Last T attoo, directed by John Reid, which attracted minority investment from an American company called Capella. It is of German origins, I understand. T he L ast T attoo attracted the investment on the basis of the script, plus a cast of four names who were acceptable to the American money as making the film attractive in the international market place. Three of the names are American: Tony Goldwyn, Rod Steiger and Robert Loggia. The fourth name, Shelton adds, “is, very happily, Kerry Fox. The American investors were willing to accept her as a draw.” At the moment, non-NZFC money is essentially via pre-sales and co-productions. As in Australia, there is no discounting by banks of distribution guarantees, a situation the recently-formed Project Blue Sky (see below) is actively addressing. Shelton: The largest portion of outside investment has been coming either through co-productions from overseas investors, as in the case of Alex [Megan Simpson, 1993] and the Australian Film Finance Corporation, or Bloody W eekend, which is the Anna Campion feature film which is being done with finance from British Screen, the British Film Institute and Channel 4. For the most part, though, a lot of the films coming out of New Zealand have been by first-feature directors. They are unlikely to attract pre-sales. It is the ones by experienced directors which have either attracted pre-sales or funding from off-shore. It is also a process of cementing the business standards within the industry, so that producers are able to go out and negotiate, are able to bring in off-shore money successfully. New Zealand no longer has a cottage industry of producers operating out of their back bedrooms.

EQUITY ISSUES An inevitable question is whether bringing in foreign actors is a controversial issue in New Zealand. Shelton: No. The Commission has always remained flexible. It has not wanted to write hard-and-fast rules on such subjects and has always been willing to work around things. The arrival of A1 Lewis to be the star of M oonrise [David Blyth, 1991], which was financed largely by us, wasn’t a problem for anybody. Nor was Alexis Arquette in Jack Be N im ble [Garth Maxwell, 1993]. If anything, it was an advantage, because both are useful names. When John Maynard cast several Australians in The Footstep Man [Leon Narbey, 1992], again it didn’t turn out to be a problem. Nor when Bridget Ikin cast an American actress in Crush [Alison Maclean, 1992]. Surely there was an outcry, though, when an Australian actor, Genevieve Picot, was cast as a New Zealand icon in Gaylene Preston’s 1993 mini-series, B read an d R o s e s ? Shelton: No, these issues don’t cause uproar any more. HEW

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In the first half of the 1980s, the people in the industry who had struggled through the ’70s to get it established didn’t want anybody coming onto their turf. There was a really aggressive mood from all the workers, crews and actors, saying, ‘We don’t want offshore people.’ By the end of the 1980s, however, people having worked for 10 years could see that a balance was great. They could get more work, more experience, by participating in offshore productions. We talk about Australia restrictive and off-putting, with Equity and the rest. In comparison, we talk about ourselves as being totally free and open, which we are. There is no gate keeper. One can come and go. When asked why New Zealanders are more open-minded on these issues than Australians, John Barnett replied: I believe the whole industry has matured enormously. We have not only matured in age, but also in attitude. We just had a conference session on Project Blue Sky and it occurred to me that in 1981-82, just after Race for the Yankee Zephyr [David Hemmings, 1981], if you had started a meeting by saying, ‘We were thinking about bringing people here to shoot films’, there would have been lynchings. Yet everyone feels quite comfortable with that situation now. Perhaps it is also because we have always been such a small market. People realized early on that you can’t live like that. Some people are going to make educational films, some people will do corporate commercials or television comedy, some will make features or bring people in from offshore. I’m happy doing my bit in making money. ‘Do you get in my way? No. Then get on and do with it.’ I don’t have to make what you want to make, but let’s not create impositions on each other. Barnett went on to describe a co-production he had tried to set­ up between Endeavour Tucker, where he was working till re­ cently, and a Canadian partner. The plot: five beauty queens are taken hostage, but fight back and win. Barnett: We had a two-thirds pre-sale and the Film Commission committed the remaining third based on the foreign sales estimates. For a number of reasons the deal didn’t quite cut together, so we didn’t access the Commission’s money. But it would have been incon­ ceivable to think of the Commission coming to the party with that subject matter five years ago. Also, when we were discussing second unit on the film, I went to a young woman who has a real reputation for making political short films. I asked her, ‘Are you interested in doing second-unit direction on this action picture?’ ‘Absolutely. Put me in.’ This was for her a learning experience. ‘Give me a go. I’d really like to do something like that. Fantastic.’ Six or seven years ago, people might have been stuck in that old crevice of saying, ‘I’m not working on a picture like that.’ There is much more freedom of thought now. Judith McCann adds: There is probably a real psychological difference [from Australia] 36 • C I N E M A

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in that New Zealand is a deregulated environment. We don’t have a quota [unlike Australia]; there is no guarantee of New Zealand content on New Zealand television. Independent producers here are much more confident because they have had to sell within their own market ideas for programmes and films. They are competing with the best from the rest of the world and have been successful. There is certainly no lack of confidence, and they are not easily intimidated. McCann is another who is not concerned about pre-sales determining the nature of New Zealand films: They haven’t had that effect so far. But it is always a concern and, if it weren’t for the strength of the public financing, the Film Commission’s financing, that might happen. What has attracted the pre-sales is the quality of the stories, and the quality and professionalism of the creative team. Plus, they obviously feel that they can make some money on it.

OFFSHORE PRODUCTIONS New Zealand has long been a location for offshore productions using the country as a location. But there appears to have been a slight shift to Queensland of late. Shelton: That’s because Queensland has aggressively gone out and sought it. No one from New Zealand has done an international campaign to persuade people to come here. But people do come. For example, there are four American tele­ movies currently being shot in Auckland, all about Hercules. They came here, they said, because they had seen The Piano and thought the location looked exactly like ancient Greece, can you believe? They started to rebuild the lost City of Troy, but discovered they were on Maori land and the Maori owners wouldn’t give them permission. So they had to stop and go somewhere else. John Barnett: Queensland clearly has a lot of benefits in its [Movie World] Studios, and an infrastructure that can put them in and out. The budgets on those pictures must be quite a bit bigger than here. They are prepared to go to Queensland, spend the money on the Studios and get the best. We had features coming here for two reasons: we were cheap, and we had money ourselves. Now that the money isn’t available for features, the same people aren’t coming here. We are also not making features for Sim , so you wouldn’t necessarily come here. You’d go somewhere where it’s cheaper, like South Africa. Judith M cCann adds: A lot of commercials come in here to shoot and there are a lot of people who, through personal contacts, service those. The reason overseas films come here is the level of crews and services, in addition obviously to the scenery. But if we can’t sustain our own base to provide that continuum, the industry will go back to some sort of fly-by-night existence. In between foreign productions here, it will be back to waiting on tables or living on the dole. Things may change dramatically on the “selling” of New Zealand locations, however, because in the irony of corporate musical chairs the N Z FC ’s new executive director is Film Queens­ land former director, Richard Stew art.4(Judith McCann has gone to the South Australian Film Corporation.)

PROJECT BLUE SK/ T H E A I M O F P R O J E C T B L U E S K Y IS T O C R E A T E A N E N V I R O N M E N T T O E N C O U R A G E T H E P R O F IT A B L E G R O W T H O F T H E N E W Z E A L A N D FILM A N D T E L E V IS I O N IN D U S T R Y .

t was initiated by a TRA D EN Z (New Zealand Trade Develop­ ment Board) audit of the film industry which indicated that the industry would earn $100m in foreign exchange in 1992-93. T R A D E N Z ’s brief in life is to increase New Zealand’s foreign exchange earnings. The film industry comes to it obviously with the need for more investment. (TRAD EN Z has just successfully worked in tandem with the clothing industry.) At its 1992 Conference, the Independent Producers and Direc­ tors Guild co-opted a committed group of producers to work with TRA D EN Z to see if there was any scope for the industry to work together to develop its foreign exchange potential. The advisory board (Dorothée Pinfold, an executive producer; Dave Gibson, producer, Gibson Group; and John Miles, project manager at of TRA D EN Z) decided that it had to devise a strategy that: 1. Helps develop and maintain a strong, viable, and stable domes­ tic base of production; and 2. Increases the amount of foreign exchange being invested and earned by the industry. To do this, it developed a model of the industry and formulated six recommendations that are the basis of Project Blue Sky.5

I

CO STS

F U N D IN G

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$ 1 2 5 ,0 0 0

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$ 5 0 ,0 0 0

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C o n tra s TRADENZ*

$ 2 4 5 ,0 0 0

THE RECOMMENDATIONS OF PROJECT BLUE SKY 1. Develop a strategy that enables New Zealand companies to attract private finance/equity for internationally orientated pro­ ductions 2 a) Encourage New Zealand On Air and New Zealand Film Commission to widen funding criteria for New Zealand ideas aimed at the international market; and b) Encourage broadcasters to support m ajor mini-series, dra­ mas and long run series with overseas income potential. 3. Develop New Zealand and Australia as one economic market for television and film. 4. Develop a plan with the existing funding and training organi­ zations to improve the quality of creative ideas/talent for the international markets. 5. Develop an industry infrastructure plan that ensures that: a) The industry is training and retaining sufficient high quality personnel; b) That there are sufficient facilities and equipment to meet increased demand; and c) Current ‘roadblocks’ to infrastructure growth are reviewed 6. Develop a sales and marketing plan in consultation with all the industry bodies to develop both domestic and international revenue PROJECT BLUE SKY DELIVERY MECHANISM • Project that will run for three years. • Set up Industry Join t Action Group (JAG) with TRA D EN Z. Industry participates by joining JAG. • Appoint a chief executive whose terms of reference are to achieve the six recommendations. • The chief executive reports to an appointed board. The board will comprise the initial advisory group plus two others to be announced. The costs and funding were estimated at:

$ 4 5 ,0 0 0

C o rp o ra te M e m b e r s h ip

$ 1 0 ,0 0 0 $ 1 4 0 ,0 0 0 $ 2 8 5 ,0 0 0

‘ Dependent on industry support

Project Blue Sky expects film and television foreign exchange earnings to increase from $66 million in 1992/93 to $200 million a year by 2 0 0 0 . Dave Gibson: The Joint Action Group mechanism allows major players in the industry to come together and work collectively on specific projects that are part of an agreed strategic plan. We’re not asking the government for more money, but instead asking them to help us create an environment so we can attract more foreign investment into our productions and to develop an infrastructure that can compete with the world’s best. If we can develop and maintain a strong, viable, and stable domestic base of production, it means we can increase the amount of foreign exchange being invested and earned by the industry. We have the full support of producers, TVNZ, the Film Commission, TV3 and New Zealand On Air. Our next step is to employ the chief executive and to start working on implementing the strategies. It is difficult not to be greatly impressed by Project Blue Sky. It has been handled extremely efficiently, with a positive attitude by people with enormous industry experience. The whole Project is very much indicative of the New Zealand film industry’s forward­ looking and consensus-seeking approach. John Barnett is one of the many who is impressed: It is another example of our maturity. The small group of people behind Project Blue Sky represented a real diversity of thought twelve months ago. There was a lot of soul searching as to whether this was the right way to go. But those people sat down and very successfully cobbled it into something. Dave Gibson told me they haven’t had a single negative response. Now when you put six proposals up, you would expect people to disagree on one thing or another. TVNZ might not be happy about access to Canada, or whatever. But it has always been NEW

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explained on the basis, ‘Look, you’re not going to go for all six of these. Four wouldn’t be bad.’ Everybody has kind of agreed then to the meat of it. That’s a real mark of where we are today. They have been to New Zealand On Air, Television New Zealand, TV1, TVNZ, TVS and all the bigger production companies, and no one has kept their hand in their pocket. They have all written a cheque. They all think it’s great. They all found some common ground. And that’s something I don’t believe you could get in Australia at the moment. In New Zealand, there is much more appreciation of everybody else’s position. I just hope it continues.

One initiative, as mentioned earlier, is to try and solve the problem of discounting distribution guarantees. At the moment, as in Australia, no bank will discount these (i.e., turn a guarantee into cash up front, minus a fee). Given T R A D EN Z ’s recent success in convincing a New Zealand bank to give special treat­ ment to the clothing industry (thus becoming in essence the industry’s bank), it is hoped a similar approach by Project Blue Sky will convince a bank to be the official discounter. If Project Blue Sky achieves only this, then it is a major success. But one can’t help feeling its successes will be far more varied and greater.

W H IL E M O S T A U S T R A L I A N S A S S U M E T H E T W O C O U N T R I E S A R E V E R Y S IM IL A R , T H E O N L Y D IF F E R E N C E S B E IN G W H A T M A K E N E W Z E A L A N D J O K E S S O F U N N Y , N E W Z E A L A N D E R S R E A L IZ E T H E D IF F E R E N C E S A R E F A R G R E A T E R .

or one, New Zealand is a totally deregulated economy; Australia’s is not. New Zealanders seem to work har­ moniously together within their film in­ dustry; A ustralians are much more disparate and oft-confrontational in theirs. At a seminar at the Independent Pro­ ducers and Directors Guild Conference, Australian director David Caesar gave gruesome accounts of backbiting and lack of co-operation among filmmakers. When he said, “I’m sure it’s exactly the same here”, there were at first quiet mumblings of “ N o .” W hen C aesar continu ed, variuous members of the audience be­ came more vocal and two finally spoke out saying this backbiting was most cer­ tainly not the case in New Zealand. Perhaps the only time one does hear sparks fly is when discussing their transT asm an c o u n te rp a rts . C e rta in ly a mumbled “A ustralian...A ustralian” is inevitably heard when one born across the Tasman dares rise to speak, as Phil Pryke discovered at the IPDG C onference dinner. Is this banter purely on a joke level or is it a barrier to trans-Tasman relations? John Barnett:

for that. There are certain things about your industry that we wanted, like the television quota. If we’d had a quota, New Zealand would be a different place.

F

It’s entirely at the joke level. We always take the view that if it’s between us and Australia, it’s a scrap; if it’s between us and Australia and the rest of the world, we are in this together. You will constantly hear reference here to what the Australian film industry has achieved, and there is very much a respect

PRODUCERS DAVID HANNAY, BRIDGET IKIN AND JOHN MAYNARD.

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The geographical closeness of Australia and New Zealand has resulted in much movement of creative talent between the coun­ tries. There have never been barriers on Australian technicians working here, or New Zealand technicians working there. Several producers (including David Flannay, John Maynard and Bridget Ikin), too, have been skilfully working both markets and structuring various co-productions. Barnett: What John Maynard has done in having an office in Australia, and an office here, is jump to the trans-Tasman reality a lot faster than most other people. John has worked it out and he is making it work for him. We say as an industry that we want a trans-Tasman market and maybe it will come if a whole lot of people do what John has. When you see Concept Fremantle, Pro Image, Atlab and all those people working here, making shows that are going to television every night, accessing New Zealand On Air money, there are certain realities regardless of what movies you make on a global scale. On a micro scale, there are people who are effectively achieving it. Notably, the resultant co-productions have been among the best made in either country in a given year: T he N avigator: A M edieval O dyssey (Vincent Ward, 1988), An Angel at My T a b le (1990), which New Zealanders consider a totally New Zealand production, but director Jane Campion does not; T he P iano (1993), the same; and so on.*1 NOTES

1 2 3

4 5

All quotes in this article are, unless otherwise noted, from interviews conducted by the author in Wellington, November 1993. Based on figures supplied by the New Zealand Film Commission. “Bill Sheat: Chairman”, an interview by Peter Beilby and Robert Le Tet, New Zealand Supplement, p. 22, in C in e m a P a p e r s , No. 27, May-June 1980. ' ‘ See interview with Stewart, conducted by Scott Murray, C in e m a P a p e r s , No. 96, December 1993, pp. 16-20, 58. What follows is largely taken from press notes handed out by Dave Gibson at the Conference. _

NANNY MATAI (NISSIE HEREWINI) IN BARRY BARCLAY’S TE RUA (1 991).

t the start of the 1993 Independent Producers and Directors Guild Conference, there was a 45-m inute welcoming ceremony conducted in M aori. The whites, most of who knew but a few words of M aori, stood without impatience and full of interest and respect. At the conclusion, this writer was told that such Maori welcomes occur before all major government or quasi-govern­ ment functions. The reason was simple: “New Zealand is their country. We are just guests here.” One cannot imagine such an attitude in Australia, let alone a SPAA conference opening with a 45-minute ceremony in an Aboriginal dialect. New Zealand is often jokingly described as “Australia ten years ago”, but in matters such as respect for the indigenous people, it is many, many years ahead. Given this, it is no surprise that Maori have directed feature films in New Zealand long before Tracey M offatt became the first Aborigine to do so in Australia. It also explains the treatment of Maoridom in New Zealand films, which, from an outsider’s inevitably-limited perspective, appears far less tokenistic and cautious than (until very recently) the treatment of Aborigines in many Australian films - or, worse, on television.

A

New Zealand filmmakers have been dealing with M aori issues since the birth of local cinema. As early as 1907, there were actuality shorts about M aori, shot by James McDonald for the New Zealand Government Tourist Board. From 1918 to 1923, McDonald even made a concentrated effort to collect and record film and photographic information on Maori tribal lore, arts and crafts, food gathering and preparation, and skills relating to a dying way of life. By now there was an awareness by some Maori elders and scholars of the need to record and preserve, and McDonald’s work was regarded as a matter of considerable importance.1 Drama films about M aori people commenced in 1912, when a Frenchman, Gaston Melies, made several one- and two-reelers: H in em oa, H ow C h ie f Te Ponga W on His B ride and L o v e d by a M aori Chieftess. The Hinemoa story was filmed again in 1914 by producer George Tarr and became what New Zealanders consider to be their first feature film. Australia’s Raymond Longford visited the next year to shoot A M aori M aid ’s L o v e and, a year later, T he Mutiny on the Bounty. Beaumont Smith visited in 1921 for T he Betrayer. NEW

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However, the major figure in this period is Rudall Hayward, who made several silent films with M aori sto­ ries, including T he Te K o o ti T rail (1927). In 1925, Hayward filmed for the first time the story of Rewi’s great battle in 1864 with the B ritis h , the sile n t R e w i ’s L a s t S ta n d . Thirteen years later he remade it as a sound film with the same ti­ tle. M aori director and historian M erata Mita w rites in F ilm in A o te a r o a N ew Z e a ­ lan d that R ew i’s L ast Stand was made as an independent produc­ tion by a white New Zealander, but it ap­ proached its M aori theme and story with respect for Maori cour­ POSTER FOR RUDALL HAYWARD'S REWfS LAST STAND (1940). age and integrity. It “is an engaging, high-spirited film [...] The outrage that Hayward, and other historians since, felt about the injustice of the British advance is clearly evident in the film .”2 Also in Film in A o tearo a N ew Z ea lan d , veteran producerdirector John O ’Shea writes: “Hayward set a tone of benevolent paternalism in his dramatic films about the Pakeha settler and loyal soldier fighting the brave and often chivalrous M aori.”3 Hayward’s films are “noble, clear-cut, and sympathetic glimpses of pioneer times with characters and events viewed through a Pakeha prism”4. In 1952, O ’Shea himself, and Roger Mirams, made an inter­ racial story, B ro k en B arrier (1952). M erata M ita argues: Broken Barrier travels a route of covert racism in Aotearoa’s society, exposed only when a Pakeha man forms a relationship with a Maori woman. It successfully broke new ground, as the multiracial harmonious society that white New Zealanders had bought into was exposed as a myth.5 O ’Shea sees the film as a shift in the representation of M aori: The post-War Broken Barrier was clearly less sympathetic to­ wards the Pakeha, taxing him with bigotry and intolerance, while portraying its Maori characters with respect and some under­ standing. That it also came from a Pakeha viewpoint was quite evident.6 The M aori viewpoint was first to make its appearance in documentaries. Many see the six-part television series, T angata W henua - T he P eo p le o f the L a n d (1974), by M aori director Barry Barclay, as a key work in bringing M aori opinions to the 40 • C I N E M A

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fore with a minimum of Pakeha filtering. Barclay: People from all walks of life could talk about their own lives as they saw them and, if they wished, in their own language. That approach was a revolution here in the early seventies, and is perhaps uncommon still.7 Barclay followed this with Autum n F ires, a one-hour attempt to portray Pakeha culture (as represented by M artyn Sanderson’s family’s life) from a M aori perspective (Barclay’s). The feature-film breakthroughs came in the late 1980s and early ’90s with the so-called M aori trilogy: N gati (Barry Barclay, 1987), M auri (Merata M ita, 1988) and Te R ua (Barclay, 1991). O ’Shea writes: Ngati had more of a bicultural stance than Mauri and the more recent Te Rua. In Ngati both races were treated with affection, though the one bad-tempered and exploitative character was Pakeha. In both Mauri and Te Rua, however, the Pakeha and European characters are generally regarded with long-suffering disdain, contempt, or that distaste one would feel for a mad dog.8 Merata M ita: Mauri [...] is really a parable about the schizophrenic existence of so many Maori in Pakeha society. Our psychological prisons are sometimes worse than jail, and only by breaking free of colonial repression and asserting our true identity can we ever regain real freedom.9 Barry Barclay: Te Rua tells a tale that explicitly has to do with cultural sover­ eignty. In the fiction, a group of rural Maori set off for Berlin to recover three carvings which last century were stolen from their ancestral home by a German and one of their relations. The carvings are now stored - or so the story has it - in the basement of a Berlin museum. I wrote the screenplay. It’s inevitable that personal experiences on racial matters - the angry ideological debates, the other cheek turned on occasion, the insights coming from opponents - will have found their way into the film. Just what it is like to demand cultural sovereignty in the face of the might of the majority culture? What friends do you make or lose? Will the outcome be recognition ... or prison.10 O ’Shea concludes: Both films were made under the control of their Maori directors [...] who had both expressed forcibly and clearly that Maori images and drama should be under Maori control. In such circumstance, Pakeha film makers have virtually been given notice by some of their Maori colleagues that being white means you shouldn’t have much to say about or show the Maori in New Zealand because the Maori wants to control their own image. Few film makers are likely to accept this. The Maori presence in the country is an essential and valuable ingredient in many dramas about living in New Zealand.11 That is a debate that exists in many countries today (Australia, the U.S.), where indigenous peoples are wishing to take hold of the discussion about issues affecting their lives and cultures. The right of outsiders to participate in discussing these issues is often debated with emotion and is not exactly close to being resolved. M erata M ita takes a wide view: Maori film makers have to address several issues not of their choosing when they decide on a project of fiction. They have to

BETH (RENA OWEN) IN LEE TAMAHORI'S ONCE WERE WARRIORS

(1994).

satisfy the demands of the cinema, the demands of their own people, the criteria of a white-dominated value and funding structure, and some­ how be accountable to all [...] Worse still is the knowledge that the Maori film maker carries the burden of having to correct the past and will therefore be concerned with demys­ tifying and decolonising the screen.*12345678902

ONCE WERE WARRIORS The important new M aori film is Lee Tam ahori’s 1994 O nce W ere W arri­ o rs, based on Alan Duff’s raw novel of urban life in a poor community. This bold and confronting film looks at a M aori family gripped by domestic violence, alcohol abuse and dependence on social welfare. Beth (Rena Brown) is the wife and mother of the Heke family. Her husband is Jake (Temuera Morrison), a kingpin at the local pub who never loses a fight but whose violent lifestyle is tearing his family apart. One son has joined a gang, the other has been taken into welfare. The daughter, Grace, seeks solace in her stories, as she tries to shield her brothers from the ugliness. When Grace’s innocence is sacrificed, Beth is forced to make a choice: her family or her husband. Director Lee Tamahori feels “The violence and the drink which batter the Heke family will be recognized by people everywhere. It is a universal story. 13 Bringing the novel to the screen was something many in New Zealand felt would prove impossible. Tamahori: Communicado [the production company] had Alan Duff break it into a first draft - that showed potential. I could see it fitted into the genre I am particularly interested in - modern urban New Zealand drama. [But] it soon became obvious that some serious reworking would be required. Alan’s very close to the original material. [...] It needed a fresh perspective and I was sure that perspective had to be a woman’s. [...] So we brought in Riwia Brown, a Maori playwright from Wellington. She’s done a magnificent job. [...]1415 When Alan Duff’s novel first appeared in 1991, there was criticism of portraying Maori in a bad light, especially from whites. This does not concern lead actress Rena Owen: Personally, I can relate foremost to the children’s point of view in the story. I know what it is like to grow up in a violent alcoholinduced environment. There will be a lot of political flack around the film, as there was around the book. A lot of people do not think a Maori should be portrayed this way. But until you can acknowledge the ugliness in your race, you can’t move on. We are all good and bad, we are human, and can’t pretend we are perfect. I think it is important, especially for Maori, that this story be told. These situations do exist, they are destructive and, if the story can change one person’s life, to me it has served its purpose. To me, Beth is like a lot of women. Living in hope - some women do that their whole lives, hoping a man will change. But she makes a choice, so hopefully she will be a role model for people in that kind of situation. I think that is the difference

between women of my mother’s generation and mine; these days women have refuges, counselling, a lot of choice and a lot of options.15 Riwia Brown adds: Warriors is a universal story. The family could be English, Irish, Spanish, whatever. Where it gets another dimension and power is from the culture of this country. The tangata whenua [the people of the land] give the Heke family an escape, a way of hope. This family has a choice, there is another lifestyle for them. I wanted to show the beauty and power of whenua and the richness of Maori culture that is there for the taking.16 Another key film is R apa Nui, which was recently filmed on Easter Island with New Zealand, Hawaiian and local people. Rena Owen concludes: I believe the South Pacific will be the happening place of the future. It’s going to become a major force in the world. We haven’t burnt ourselves out yet, but we have got to learn from the mistakes countries like the US and England have made, and learn to preserve our own culture. Maori, like every other indigenous people, have a voice and to me it is an exciting voice. We have the only stories left untold.17 NOTES

1

2 3 4 5

6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Merata Mita, “The Soul and the Image”, F ilm In A o te a ro a N e w Z e a la n d , edited by Jonathan Dennis & Jan Bieringa, Victoria University Press, with the assistance of the Film Programme of the Queen Elizabeth II Arts Council of New Zealand, Wellington, 1992, p. 40. Ibid, p. 43. John O’Shea, “A Charmed Life: Fragments of Memory ... and Extracts from Conversations”, Film in A o te a ro a N e w Z e a la n d , op cit, p. 17. Ibid, p. 17. Mita, op cit, p. 44. Ibid, pp. 17-8. Barry Barclay, “Amongst Landscapes”, F ilm in A o te a ro a N e w Z e a la n d , op cit, p. 119. O’Shea, op cit, p. 19. Mita, op cit, p. 49. Barclay, op cit, pp. 127-8. O’Shea, op cit, p. 19. Mita, op cit, p. 49. Quote taken from press kit. From an article by Bruce Sheridan supplied by the NZFC. “Kimberley Paterson, “ O n c e W e re W a rrio rs - twice the controversy?”, N e w Id e a (New Zealand), 30 October 1993, p. 32. Ibid, p. 32. Ibid, p. 32. NEW

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BUDGET stablished in 1978, the New Zea land Film Commission (NZFC) is supported to the tune of approximately N Z$8 million a year. The structure of that funding has changed over the years, the NZFC being increasingly depend­ ent on money from the Lottery Board and less on direct government grant. In the 12 months to June 1994, the NZFC income from government grants is $ 8 8 9 ,0 0 0 (having dropped from $ 3 .6m in 1988-89), while Lottery Board support has increased to $ 7 .4m (from MLADEN IVANCIC, NZFC FINANCE DIRECTOR. $ 3 .7m in 1988-89). This gives a total of $ 8 .3m, somewhat lower than 1 9 9 0 -9 1 ’s peak of $ 1 0 .8m. Mladen Ivancic, the N Z FC ’s finance director, explains:

E

The government grant has dropped dramatically because of gen­ eral financial pressures on government spending in all areas. Like other cultural bodies and government departments - like everyone - we have shared in the pain. The government saw the increase in Lottery profits as a way of getting around direct payments to us and replacing them with a share of Lottery profits. And that worked really well until this new financial year, when the Lottery profits started declining. Lottery Board profits had increased dramatically with the introduction of Lotto, but the recession reversed that trend a little. As the NZFC is tied to a fixed percentage of profits, there is inevitably a variation in total year by year. Is the fluctuating nature of the N Z FC ’s annual funding a problem? Ivancic: Any amount of money is manageable. Whether it’s always suffi­ cient for the film industry is debatable. To some extent, the industry expands or contracts to the level of funding that is available. At the same time, I’d like to think the fluctuations are in single­ digit percentages. I hope we are at a plateau, a base which won’t go up or down too much.

NZFC REVIEW When Phil Pryke became the new Chairman of the NZFC, several review procedures were put in place. In his speech at the Novem­ ber 1993 Independent Producers and Directors Guild Confer­ ence, Pryke announced that: One thing I’ve learned [...], as I’ve met with industry groups around the country, is that there is definitely a mood of change in the New Zealand film industry - maybe after last Saturday [the November 1993 New Zealand election] this can be seen as a reflection of the country as a whole. But let’s make sure it does not descend into the miasma we see in the political area. 42 . C I N E M A

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We must make sure that any change is looking forward not backwards. And the impetus for change is not just coming from the Film Commission. The industry itself has reached a natural turning point, a pe­ riod of reassessment and review. One thing Pryke has argued for is a change in the procedures by which people apply to the NZFC: [Since] taking the Chair, and talking exten­ sively with industry participants, I found that, as often as not, applicants for Commission support were confused about our expectations and the signals we were sen In addition,, I have a personal obsession with making sure that we are absolutely explicit about the reasons for our decisions, when conveying them to applicants. This is especially important when we say, ‘No.’ The result is a more streamlined process - and one in which the uncertainty for applicants has been removed as much as possible. For producers, that means no more waiting anxiously beside the phone on a Friday night, wondering if your application has been successful. For the Commission, it means, now that you have a very clear indication of how to give your application your best shot, we do expect you to get it right the first time. And we’d really prefer not to consider applications more than once.

While the industry has generally embraced Pryke’s call, lawyer and former Chairman Bill Sheat sees dangers in a once-only approach to considering applications: I don’t think that is wise, because you are going to throw out something that is brilliant. Smash Palace was very successful and took Roger Donaldson to Hollywood. But the first time it came up before the Commis­ sion, it wasn’t right. It just didn’t hang together, and we said, ‘Roger go away and do some more work on it.’ I guess the resultant anger in Roger may have released some creative juices and really helped him achieve the final result. If we let him make it when it was originally put up, it wouldn’t have been the success it became. Of that I’m absolutely sure. That was one clear-cut case of the worth in saying, ‘Go away and come back again.’ What I think a lot of the filmmakers here fail to realize is that this process actually happens in Hollywood. You read of countless situations where established filmmakers have horrendous trou­ bles getting through the studios films which end up being hugely successful. Nobody wanted to do them at first, so they just kept battling away, did more versions, and came back. Two other areas Phil Pryke and the N ZFC are currently examining are training (not just new talent, but of industry p ra c titio n e rs so they can b est m arsh al th eir ta le n ts, entrepreneurially and creatively) and marketing/sales. Both areas are discussed in the following interview with Pryke.

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The biggest change in N ZFC policy in recent years was the introduction of Producer Operated Development Schemes. The aim was to partially devolve the development of projects from the NZFC, which tends to view projects on a one-off basis, to established producers/production companies. The schemes are worth $5 0 ,0 0 0 to $ 1 5 0 ,0 0 0 to the recipient. The success of this trial led to a grander plan: the Super Producer Operated Development Schemes (Super Pods). John Barnett of South Pacific Pictures explains: Effectively, the NZFC gives four [now five] companies underwrit­ ing to the tune of $500,000 over a three-year period. You don’t just get access to $500,000; it’s on scheduled draw-downs against the business plan. This enables you to go out and acquire product, to get scripts developed, to run your over­ head. It is a recognition at last that being a producer is not much fun between gigs. In Wellington, the Super Pods are: •The Gibson Group (Dave Gibson); • Preston"‘Laing (Gaylene Preston and Robin Laing); • Midnight Films (the late Jim Booth) with WingNut Films (Peter Jackson). In Auckland: • T he M ov ie P a rtn e rs (Jo h n Maynard and Bridget Ikin); and • Endeavour T u ck er (M urray Newey and John Barnett), since dis­ banded. John Barnett:

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[I]n the industry itself, you, the practitioners, are asserting more control over your own future. Where before change tended to be ad hoc and at the mercy of external agencies - especially government - it is now being regarded strategically by the industry, and moves are afoot, though vehicles such as the Joint Action Groups [Project Blue Sky] for the industry to actively manage its future. I must say that I fully support such initiatives. [...] I know there were times when the Film Commission was accused of thinking it was the industry in New Zealand. If that was ever the case, it certainly is not so now. The Film Commission today sees itself as an investor in, and supporter of, the industry. The days of hand-holding the industry are gone - and I hope that is accepted by all participants. Judith McCann, the N ZFC ’s executive director until January 1994, believes the Super Pods have al­ ready had an impact: The industry has been more stable over the past few years because the Super Pods enable companies with track records to have a slate of projects in development. That has contributed sig­ nificantly to a greater stability. That may well be true, but where are the films to prove the worth of the scheme? “Near-go” projects are hard to find and McCann does express some concern:

We are [in November 1993] almost half way through the current financial year and, surprisingly, the Commission has made production finance commit­ ment to only one feature. It’s been slower than we anticipated. One possible reason is that we are I think the net results are going to be looking more critically at the quality of JUDITH MCCANN, NZFC EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR UNTIL JANUARY 1994. really significant. While the Commis­ the projects. We have developed more sion is still going to do a lot of one-off detailed criteria by which projects are evaluated by the Commis­ development, each of these Super Pods has eight to ten projects sion. Producers are getting the message quite clearly that we are moving along. And because they have been fast-tracked in a sense, the producer feels sufficiently detached to be able to stand back looking for a higher level of quality in the package they present to and say, ‘This is a better one to go than the other.’ I think the end the Commission. They are not coming in as frequently at an early result is going to be pictures which have a high degree of off-shore stage as they might have done in the past. investment. Within the Super Pods, some projects are being developed to a At Endeavour Tucker, we spent two years on one of our three stage where several have come to the Commission with all the projects. If we had been dependent on one-off funding from the other money attached. They were no longer looking to the Com­ Film Commission, the process would have been much harder. The mission to kick-start the financing process. Commission wouldn’t have been tougher about it, it’s just that you’d be locked into the Commission’s time-table of meetings, At the same time, there is growing concern that Super Pods rather then our ability to keep things moving along. money has been overly used to keep production companies alive - to “run the overhead”. Like everything else at the NZFC, In many ways, the Super Pods reflect a difference in attitude though, the Super Pods are under review. It is possible that the about where responsibility lies. As Phil Pryke said at the scheme’s gains may be evaluated as too expensively bought. Conference: MEW

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C h a i r m a n , N e w Z e a l a n d Film C o m m is sio n PHIL PRYKE WAS APPOINTED CHAIRMAN OF THE NEW ZEALAND FILM CO M M ISSIO N ON 1 APRIL 1 9 9 3 , FOLLOWING ON FROM DAVID GASGOINE. AUSTRALIAN-BORN

PRYKE HAS HAD A

NOTABLE CAREER IN INVESTM ENT BANKING AND HAS SERVED ON SEVERAL GOVERNMENT C O M M ISSIO N S, ADVISING THE GOV­ ERNM ENT ON THE SALE OF TELECOM, THE COAL CORPORATION AND POSTBANK. UNTIL RECENTLY HE WAS WITH BUTTLE WILSON.

Did you come as Chairman with a specific brief, or have you progressively evolved one? I sat on the Film Commission for a year previous to my appointment, sort of feeling my feet. That year showed me how little I knew. So, I decided I’d better go out and find out how all these people and their businesses operate. I spent quite a lot of time going around the country asking in particular producers how they saw the Commission and the industry, and, equally important - partly given my own bias - how their businesses worked. The first thing I found out was that most of these businesses operate very tenuously. None the less, it was a bit of a surprise to discover 10 or 12 quite viable, robust businesses had survived through the terrible times of the tax schemes and their subsequent withdrawal. It was out of that that I developed a view about what I’d like to try and achieve in the three years that my current appointment lasts. W hat are they? Basically there are three things. One is I discovered that many of the people who came before the Commission were extremely confused about the signals we were sending. The instinct of the Commission, particularly when we decided not to back things, was to let people down gently and not deliver harsh judgements. But deciding whether someone gets $ 1 m or S2m is an on/off switch. You do have to take quite harsh judgements about the quality of the project and the people working on it, on whether or not they can deliver it and whether it has a market. What we were tending to do was pull our punches. But I believe quite strongly that the Commission has an absolute obligation not to pull any punches. In this very complex and myriad world of making movies, which is certainly the weirdest business I’ve ever been involved in, people should know as clearly as possible how you are operating and what your expectations are, particularly in terms of the packaging of projects. 44 • C I N E M A

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To fix that was largely a procedural thing, and I think that we have made good progress. Certainly the feedback we have been getting is that people are appreciative of the fact we are not prepared to waste our time or theirs on projects that in the long run we don’t think have legs. We might as well turn them off and let people get on with other things. The second area that has been concerning me more and more is whether it is appropriate for a funding agency like the Commis­ sion, which is essentially a bank, to be involved in non-banking areas. Is it appropriate to sell specific pieces of product, in addition to promoting the industry as a whole? Quite a few people in New Zealand said to me the Commission should get out of the sales agency rôle altogether and leave it to others, the professionals. Others said the Commission actually does a very good job with some projects. So what I have done is initiate a series of discussions, first with producers, to try and get that spectrum of views out into the open. At the end of the day, we are there to serve them; we are not here to tell them how to do it right. And if the consensus develops that there is a better model for the selling of New Zealand product, then let’s go for it. We will find out how to do it and we’ll support it. I would like to get to the point where we are very clear about what we are getting out of our expenditures on marketing, that generic promotion and facilitation of the industry, and what we are getting out of sales, which is the selling of individual products. Being specific about that will help in terms of running the Commission and making sure that our clients know what our rôle in life is. The third area that really does concern me quite deeply is the development of creative talent. We have developed technical talent in New Zealand very well over the years, by hook or by crook, through the broadcasters, through people like Gibsons and Preston*Laing, and so on. But we seem to be facing a shortage not so much of ideas but of the creativity that is required to actually package those ideas with all the other bits. It is the script, the vision, the perception of casting and how all the bits bolt together.

ANNE (LISA CHAPPELL) AND DOROTHEA (JENNIFER WARD-LEALAND) IN STEWART MAIN AND PETER 'f/ELLS'DESPERATE REMEDIES (1 993), WHICH PRYKE THINKS "IS JUST THE MOST MAGNIFICENT THING THAT

HAS BEEN PRODUCED HERE".

We do have lots of work to do on scripts, too - it’s very hard finding good scripts - but it’s that whole package of elements in the creative body of work called a film where we have to do a lot of work. I find it a little bit remarkable that when proponents come before us for funding for a project, whether it’s development funding or production funding, the pitches they put in front of us are, by and large, pretty poor. I come from a background where, if you like to put it crudely, I’ve been quite successful in lifting large fees out of various clients’ pockets for major projects. And the way we have done that is by very highly-developed presenta­ tion skills. I found it a bit surprising, frankly, that people involved in the communications industry actually don’t communicate their ideas at the front end particularly well. Now, whether that is because of a failure of the idea and the package, or a failure in ability to present, I’m not quite sure, but I suspect it’s the former. We tend to put a lot of emphasis on script, but it’s the idea that lies behind the script that is really important, as is the vision of the people who are going to put it together. I would like a lot more thought put into that. Paul Thomson said at the Conference’s character session that a lot more thought should be put into the idea itself, into how people are actually going to deliver that idea and what’s it going to look like. We have quite a lot of work to do in trying to find the mechanisms for identifying talent, for putting them into a posi­ tion where they can learn the on-the-ground skills that are required besides just having the specialist creative talent, the creativity of thinking how to pull the deal together, of conceptu­ alizing what it will look like at the end. Whether that means some form of formalized training, and participating in some of the courses at the Australian Film Television & Radio School or the British film school, we need to find out. We have to plug people into very specialized hot-house environments where they can absorb a whole pile of skills. NEW

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expect things to change, but you have a much better chance of developing a product if you have a very clear view of what it is that you are trying to produce. Equally, if you are forced into the position - not forced but encouraged - where you have to articulate that vision, your chances of applying a range of disci­ plines that will achieve it have to be much higher. The most common complaint, though, is that New Zealanders don’t make enough films that New Zealanders want to see. But if you are continually relying on new and untested talent, doing that is just so much more difficult. How, in fact, do you evaluate the success of the NZFC?

JENNY (JUDI MCINTOSH) IN BARRY BARCLAY’S NGAT / (1987).

I’m not a specialist in film. I’m a specialist in organizations and that sort of thing. It’s the people at this Conference who have collectively in their heads the answers to how to deliver these things in a much more efficient way. What I’m trying to do is to be very clear with the participants in the industry about what the Commission’s role is, how it is making its decisions, and push them into a position where they are being very explicit about what they expect. T hat’s not to say that they will all agree and we’ll end up with this wonderful consensus developing. At some point the Commission is going to have to take some judgements in amongst that. But I want the Commission to be in the absolutely best position to take those judgements and, through that process, bring the industry with us. There is far more chance that the industry will support us if they feel everybody has been consulted and that we take them seriously. Have you been at the Commission long enough to have witnessed the realization of projects you backed? If so, have you seen great differences between what was pitched and the finished result? Oh yeah, and I’ve been very surprised. If you take D esperate R em edies [Stewart M ain and Peter Wells, 1993], which I think is just the most magnificent thing that has been produced here, I was startled to think we could have produced such a film. At the presentation where the decision to go with it was made, I did not in any way get the message as to what it would look like. It happens to be a type of movie that appeals to me, so you have to be a bit careful of that sort of influence, but it is far more startling than I had any reason to believe it would be. I haven’t seen T he L a st T atto o [John Reid, 1994] yet, but I’ve seen a cut of it. It looks pretty much how I thought it would look. On Monday, I’m going along to see O nce W ere W arriors [Lee Tamahori] in final cut. I’m quite interested to see what that looks like. I have a very large involvement with Maoridom and am fairly close to a lot of the issues the film is dealing with. As in any endeavour, if we can encourage people to be as clear as possible at the inward end, our chances of realizing good product are going to be that much higher. It is, if you like, the forcing of a discipline. It probably makes the assessment of projects easier, too. Oh, yeah. One of the best presentations I have come across was given by Peter Jackson not so long ago. I came away thinking, “Yeah, not only do I think I know what it might actually look like in the end, but I’m absolutely convinced that Peter knows what it’s going to look like.” There is no question that film is a living process, and one must 46 • C I N E M A

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T hat’s a quite difficult one. Perhaps this is the bias of my own background, but I evaluate it by looking out there and seeing that there are 10 or 12 patently viable businesses and more coming through. Sure they are involved in every now and then doing television work, some commercials and maybe a bit of corporate work, but that is contributing quite significantly to the fabric of the industry. And sure people have to go overseas to get experi­ ence elsewhere, because that’s how it is for all of us. I’m an Australian but I live in New Zealand. M y skills have been rounded by quite extensive overseas work. I could have continued working in Washington or Rome where I spent 10 years. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to come back here. And hopefully I have contributed something in coming back. People do come back. Roger Donaldson hasn’t told me, but he’s told many other people, that he would love to come back here and make movies. He’s just waiting for the right one that grabs his interest and away you go. One initiative of the N ZFC has been the Super Pods. You seem very interested in strengthening the structure of the industry. One criticism of Australian funding bodies is they are very one-off in terms of backing lone individuals. The N ZFC, on the other hand, seems to be arguing that, if there are ten or 15 healthy organiza­ tions, a continuing film industry is almost guaranteed. Absolutely, and it has to be encouraged. We are not the industry, we are a funder and a supporter of that industry. We are not a studio and we have to avoid being a studio. We don’t have the skills and shouldn’t, in my view, attempt to develop them. I am really interested in industry structures. It’s akin to my background. The stronger the industry is, the stronger the contri­ bution of that industry. Whether it’s film, fish, electricity, com­ puting or any of the other areas I’m involved in, the stronger that industry is the more this country gets out of that industry - in a myriad of ways that are not always measurable. The very fact that people are marching forward and trying new ideas is what we have to have in this country. Do you think the turn-around in private investment will come out of that superstructure as well? It’s the best chance, without a doubt. I’m a businessman. Success breeds success. If you can say to me as somebody who advises lots of people who have lots of loot that a business over there has a track record, the chance of attracting private capital into that business has to be that much higher. It will take a long time, but the investor will say, “Well, here is a business that I can under­ stand. Here is a business that has a track record. Here’s a business the proponents of which are trustworthy in a business sense. Here is a business that is disciplined in the way it operates.” If it produces the goods, the chances of getting funding from private sources are going to increase. And already I know of one or two people around New Zealand - and they are in very short supply - who are at least amenable to being seduced into investing in various projects. It will be a hard job getting the first few - 1 think we are little distance from that at the moment - but it will come.

Lindsay Shelton has been selling and p ro m o tin g N ew Z ea la n d film s fo r 1 4 y e a rs , since he jo in ed th e N ew Z ea la n d Film C om m ission (NZFC ) as its firs t M a rk e tin g D ire c to r in 1 9 7 9 . He in tro d u ced N ew Z ea la n d m ovies to in te rn a tio n a l buyers a t the C annes Film Festival in 1 9 8 0 , and has han d led the sales and pro m o tion of m o re than 5 0 N ew Z ealan d fe a tu re film s a t all th e m a jo r in te rn a tio n a l festivals and m a rk e ts . B efo re he jo in ed th e N ZFC, Shelton was a jo u rn a lis t who w o rked on various n ew spapers (in cluding The S y d n e y M o r n in g H e ra ld ) in S ydney and London, and with N ew Z ea la n d televisio n , w h e re he was n etw o rk e d ito r of N ew Z e a la n d ’s to p -ra tin g news show fo r ten y e a rs . D uring his tim e as P re s id e n t of th e W ellington Film S o ciety, Shelton fou n d ed th e W ellin gto n Film Fes­ tiva l in 1 9 7 2 and d ire c te d it fo r its firs t ten y e a rs . He has also been C h a irm a n of the N ew Z ea la n d F e d e ra tio n of Film S o cieties. NEW

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How concerned would New Zealanders be if the film industry came under threat? The surveys which the Commission carries out in the marketplace from time to time indicate that people would be quite concerned if the film industry died out. They see it as an activity of national importance and value. I was overseas at the time, but I am assured by everybody that when T he P iano [Jane Campion, 1993] swept the field in Cannes1, there was a mood of national euphoria for 48 hours which was similar to that when the All Blacks win an international sporting event. That seems to indicate that, even though a disturbing number of New Zealand films have failed to perform at the local box office, the population at large knows that there is something happening here and looks upon it as a positive thing. In aesthetic terms, rather than in export dollar terms? Aesthetic terms?

PUBLICITY FOR JANE CAMPION'S CANNES-WINNING THE PIANO (1993).

The concern is in having a film culture, rather than another successful free-market enterprise. The word culture still sits very uneasily with New Zealanders, though they are starting to adapt to its real meaning.

PERCEPTIONS

ADVERTISEMENT FOR ALISON MACLEAN'S CRUSH (1 992).

Is there a major difference in the perception and status of New Zealand films overseas to that in New Zealand? Yes. The industry is more admired and recognized outside New Zealand than inside. If you look at the overall list of productions since 1978 [see Chart 1, p. 15], it’s quite extraordinary that a country that did almost nothing has suddenly done all of this. And I think recog­ nition of that overall achievement is far more wide-ranging overseas. When I’m in other countries, so many people come and ask, “How does New Zealand do it? How does a country with a small population base produce all these great movies, all these great directors?” And when you say, “What do you mean by that?”, they know the whole history. People overseas see the fact the New Zealand has had so many films in Official Selection at Cannes as something genuinely extraordinary. They point to many other countries with similar population bases which might have a film selected for Cannes once every 10 years, whereas New Zealand has had seven. Inside New Zealand, people are much less willing to accept any kind of New Zealand success. New Zealanders haven’t changed as much as I had thought they had; the same old national characteristics still keep coming through. There is a change, though, if I look at my kids. They now live in a country where films are made all the time, and, even if they are not seeing that many, they are aware that films are happening. And that is an absolutely different environment for people to live in than in the 1970s and earlier, when almost no films were made in New Zealand and films could only come from somewhere else. We no longer have that kind of inferiority complex. 48 . C I N E M A

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y/A s c a r y f a i r y t a l e a b o u t p r im a l; w a r r i n g f e m a le e n e r g ie s "

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I think your average New Zealander, if questioned, would talk about the value of the achievem en ts of people in the film industry. Even though you could more or less correctly say they are talking about cultural value, they talk about the achievements of some actor in winning a prize or of a filmmaker in getting a film into some big event, or of a New Zealand movie getting well reviewed in Paris, the States or wherever. But you still have to deal with a media which, given a choice of reviews of New Zealand films from another country, has a tendency to pick up on the negative ones and leave out the positive.

SALES AND MARKETING W hat does your role as Sales and Marketing Director mean in terms of handling New Zealand films? Though we do a very small amount of generic promotion and advertising, almost all the promotion is to do with specific new titles. For ten years or more we placed a big New Zealand message at the top of all the ads we took. But we have achieved recognition now, so we focus almost entirely on the films and the quotes that they earn. The New Zealand connection is conveyed by our name at the bottom. We launch all the films as New Zealand movies. We don’t try to pretend that they are anything different from that. Many of them have not only benefited from that, but gained far more international acclaim than if they had been launched as a one-off movie in the huge, cruel international marketplace. The Commission is currently selling two-thirds of New Zea­ land films. My belief is that the successes we have had have largely come from our achievement in positioning the New Zealand movie industry as something larger and more substantial than the reality of our four or five features a year. And we have been able to do that because we have had hands-on sales control of a majority of the titles. That marketing would be much more difficult if we didn’t have hands-on involvement, because the marketing message and our ability to deliver it would suddenly become amorphous as opposed to our being able to say, “Here is the film. You can actually buy it from us and we will work with you on the release.” If your only handle two-thirds, then some films you obviously don’t. The system by which the Commission handles the bulk of movies has always been flexible. Again, like every other area in which the Commission works, we don’t have hard-and-fast, black-andwhite rules. When John Maynard and Bridget Ikin wanted their two films, Crush and T he F ootstep M an [Leon Narbey, 1992], handled by a British seller, even though the British seller wasn’t financially involved with the films, the Commission agreeably went along with their wish, which was part of their international strategy. Where offshore investors bring substantial amounts of money into a film, and share the investment with us, if that offshore

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PUBLICITY FOR PETER JACKSON S BAD TASTE (1988).

money wants sales rights, then that’s a perfectly good negotiating point. When we are challenged by people who claim that the Commis­ sion doesn’t get prices as good as an independent, outside seller would get, the answer is in the statistics. We believe we do. The difference between the gross and the net accounted for by costs is also much less with the films we handle than with offshore sellers. Much of our costs are covered by the overall generic marketing that we do. Investors tend to get a larger proportion of the money we collect in comparison to the offshore sales agents. Be that as it may, the subject is now being debated and our Chairman, Phil Pryke, is getting a report on different ways of selling. He is investigating whether the Commission should still be selling. He says he has an open mind and there will be a decision sometime next year. [See interview with Pryke, pp. 4 4 -4 6 .] What remains to be seen with the various options, which are going to be explored in the next six months, is whether such flexibility, which many people think is desirable, can be main­ tained by another system or whether alternative systems might become more rigid and give New Zealand producers less choice rather than more. At the moment, do you also sell New Zealand films within New Zealand? The Commission demands that New Zealand distribution is contracted before a film goes into production. So, while we participate in this with the producers, by the time the film is into production that is generally tied down. Our involvement in New Zealand is generally restricted to talking with the New Zealand distributors about their campaigns and their release patterns, and monitoring as time allows how things are going. We encourage the distributors to find ways of NEW

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keeping movies in release, rather than letting them disappear. Our success rate on that varies according to the success of the movie. I’ve been talking with one distributor this morning. Their previous release didn’t get into as many New Zealand cities as we wanted or they wanted. The reason I was given was that the film failed to perform in Auckland and Wellington. As a result, there was difficulty in getting it out into the provincial cities. However, the current New Zealand release of this distributor is having a long life in Auckland and therefore will be easily booked elsewhere. A disappointing New Zealand theatrical re­ lease may only be seen in eight or ten cities. An effective New Zealand release will be seen in as many as 50 or 60 different venues.

INTERNATIONAL Does the international market consider New Zealand films purely art-house? Not entirely. The art-house definition is really only relevant in North America, where films from a place like us are most likely to find their outlet initially through art houses. The only excep­ tions are films such as Peter Jackson’s, which can go straight into genre houses. In the rest of the world, it’s just a matter of releasing a good movie and finding the best places to do it in. Even in the States, if a film is going to have art-house success, it’s going to be a success which is being designed by the distributor as the foundation on which a much wider release will happen. Maybe in New Zealand there is a perception among some people that New Zealand filmmakers are more interested in making art-house than general-appeal movies. That perception is held by some people in the film exhibition and distribution business, rightly or wrongly. It is a misconception which produc­ ers are now actively working to overcome. The message which the new Chairman is delivering, about each producer needing to find the audience, is a message that is being readily and willingly understood, which is a difference from a few years back. The art-house issue is most unfortunately visible in video stores in New Zealand. If you go looking for New Zealand movies, you tend to find them buried in an art-house category. It’s surprising that so few New Zealand directors have chosen to work in specific movie genre. Peter Jackson has done three, David Blyth, before he went to the States, did one, D eath W arm ed Up [1984], and did it very well. I suppose Geoff Murphy did it with G o o d b y e P ork Pie [1981], if you consider that an actionchase genre. The figures in terms of financial earnings tend to show that there is a ready market for genre movies, be they horror, gore, action or whatever. From that point of view, it’s surprising that so many New Zealand filmmakers have endeavoured to put together a quality story and so few have tried to do genre films, which are a little easier to achieve successfully than some of the other ones. Is attending overseas festivals the primary way of selling New Zealand films? 50 • C I N E M A

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Festival and markets tied together. Cannes remains the number one festival and market for us. We still continue to launch the majority of New Zealand movies there. W e’ve only had one film [Jane Campion’s An A ngel at My T able, 1990] in Venice, and we’ve never had a film in Competition in Berlin. From the launch at Cannes, either in Official Selection or just in the market, we then go wider, participating in events such as Toronto and M ontréal, which are very user friendly to New Zealand movies - also London. The annual participation at events is the absolutely base activity. We are always at the AFM , at Cannes, at Mifed. We do an immense amount of direct mail before each of those events. We do a lot of follow-up direct mail, in terms of any kind of festival success or award. We are forever writing to all potential distribu­ tors drawing their attention to titles, sending out copies of reviews and awards and so on. There have not been as many New Zealand films in Sydney and Melbourne as we would have liked, which is largely a timing thing. If something is not going to be ready till May, for Cannes, it’s probably not going to be available for Sydney or Melbourne to preview within their time frames, which are earlier. So, new films which might have been expected to turn up in Sydney and Melbourne in June aren’t there. I’m trying to address that problem with Paul Byrnes [in Sydney]. How do you rate the value of festival participation and festival awards in securing sales? Is it far better to be in Competition in Cannes than in the market? Does an award help a negotiation? Everything that you are doing is aimed at getting the buyer’s initial attention, trying to give the potential buyer a reason to come to see the film, as opposed to all those films that the buyer doesn’t have time to see. Every little achievement that you can muster is part of that initial aim. Once you get the buyer to see the movie, then most buyers are pretty rigorously independent in being able to make up their mind on the basis of what they see and on what they know of their own audience. From that point on, awards will be seen by a potential buyer as a useful marketing tool in their particular territory. They will not be the difference between saying, “Yes, I’ll buy it” or “No, I won’t .” I’d like to be able to say that international awards will help all films make it in the domestic market place. But I can’t always say that. Australian distributor Andrew Pike recently said that to most distributors a film which didn’t either get significant festival participation or an award was most likely a dead film.2 I’m surprised Andrew said that. It’s not my view. I have no hesitation in launching a film just in the market at Cannes. If you do that right, and if the film has a potential to entertain people, then that’s no problem at all. M ost people I know didn’t realize that Strictly B allroom [Baz Luhrmann, 1992] was in Official Selection at Cannes. I first heard of it in terms of having been a film that was discovered in the market.

Right back at our beginnings, Smash Palace [Roger Donaldson, 1982] was discovered in the market when we were using a very obscure screen in Cannes. It didn’t matter a damn. The film created word of mouth and everything carried on from there. THE FAMOUS PUBLICITY SHOT FOR JANE CAMPION'S A H ANGEL A T MY TABLE (1990). We have continuing arguments about whether New Overall, one must say that each new film needs a whole new set Zealand films which are considered “small” are helped or endan­ of decisions in each territory. The fact that you are known in a gered by getting selection in the Cannes Competition. Vigil territory means that you can guarantee the film will get to be seen. [Vincent Ward, 1984] was the first; Vigil is a “small’ film. Crush The problem in our initial years was in building credibility for [Alison Maclean, 1992] is more recent; Crush is a “small” film. New Zealand as a source, so people would actually come and see My considered opinion is that there are more benefits for the our films. We are way beyond that now. We can guarantee that film than there are negatives. There are some negatives, agreed. people will come and see films, but it’s still a decision title by title. But the benefits are in terms of the basic visibility of the film. The Desperate Remedies has sold very well and is continuing to sell fact that it has been chosen, that it is there, helps get people to very well. I think it will sell almost everywhere. Nevertheless, I focus on it. The issue of whether it appears on the screen to be had a few shocks. For example, a distributor in Italy, whom I’d something “small”, as opposed to the huge things which seem been dealing with for years and who had had good success with more and more to dominate Cannes, is not enough of a problem New Zealand movies, said no. I thought he would immediately to destroy the film’s potential. take this one. “Too weird” is what he said. Basically, if you get Official Selection offered at any level, you are most likely to say “Yes”, even if it isn’t quite the section that you would have chosen.

SUCCESSES AND SETBACKS Are there certain territories which are very receptive to New Zealand films and where you have good track records? The Americans certainly consider everything, while the UK theatrical area continues to be largely supported by television decisions. Fortunately for us, our films rate very well on Channel 4 and BBC. The bulk of our films have sold either to BBC or Channel 4, and the majority of those titles have had theatrical releases as well, with theatrical distributors partly underwritten by the British television system. In Germany, it can be hot and cold. Initially we sold almost everything to German television in the days when it was looking for alternatives to American product. They then changed their policies and we stopped selling there altogether. More recently, we have been able to get some films into genuine theatrical release - some small, some large. But German television is no longer a key element in getting a sale. In Japan, we sold nothing for five or six years, until we did all the right things in terms of what you are supposed to do in every new market. We went to Tokyo and presented a New Zealand film season. We gave a reception with the New Zealand Ambas­ sador, we invited people, we met people, we paid all the right courtesy. It was a copy-book exercise, and after that we started selling to Japan. From selling nothing, we now sell quite a lot. In France, the French industry ignored us for a number of years, until the m id-1980s when Gaumont took on Utu [Geoff Murphy, 1983]. Again it was our continuity of participation, and being seen to do the right thing in Cannes, that eventually drew us to the attention of the French distributors. But France still remains a very difficult territory. In Italy, we had initially nothing; more recently, we’ve sold quite a lot.

What are the main problem territories in selling New Zealand films around the world? An obvious one is Australia. There are fewer New Zealand films distributed there than one might expect. Yes. The most recent example, and one which is of the greatest concern to us, is The End o f the Golden Weather [Ian Mune, 1992], which won Best Film and Best Director in New Zealand, and did very well in local release. It got lots of prizes all over the place, not just in New Zealand, and was viewed by every distribu­ tor in Australia. Some of them looked at it twice, and yet no Australian distributor was willing to believe that they could attract an Australian audience to that movie. So it’s going straight to video. They all knew of its success here, they all saw it, and everybody passed on it. I can’t comment any more than that ... Actually, I was going to answer your question in a different way. I was going to say that if, from time to time, New Zealand films have had trouble getting theatrical releases around the world, the basic reason must go back to the decision to invest in those films in the first place. Given that New Zealand population is only 3.3 million, 90 per cent of the responsibility of breaking even rests with the market­ ing division of NZFC. Correct. What role, then, does the Sales and Marketing Director at the N ZFC have in decisions about which films to invest in? I advise the Commission Board, in terms of both domestic and international markets, what I believe the potential of each pro­ duction application is. History shows that successive Boards have sometimes taken note of this advice and sometimes they haven’t.

NOTES

1 2

The Piano shared the Palme d’Or, and Holly Hunter won Best Actress. In an interview with Pike, conducted by Peter Castaldi, in November 1993 on ABC television. NEW

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N EW Z E A L A N D 'S 1 9 9 4 PREMIERE FEATURES

ONCE WERE WARRIO

From Peter Jackson, the amazing (and true) story of an extraordinary,

Lee Tamahori's powerful first feature, based on Alan Duff's best-seller,

exhilarating friendship which gets out of control and ends in murder.

stars Rena Owen as a woman who has to save her family from the

International sales: Miramax

violent man she loves. International sales: NZFC.

Murray Reece's comedy about a bankrupt suicidal maniac who kidnaps a

John Reid's romantic thriller stars Kerry Fox and Tony Goldwyn as lovers

cute cop (Rima Te Wiata) and then accidentally gets involved in a bungled

who uncover a top-level conspiracy in wartime Wellington.

bank robbery. International sales: NZFC and Total.

International sales: Capella and Bill Gavin.

PRODUCED W ITH MAJOR INVESTMENT FROM THE

N e w Z e a l a n d F ilm

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PO Box 11 -5 4 6 , W ellington. Tel 6 4 - 4 - 3 8 5 9 7 5 4 , Fax 6 4 - 4 - 3 8 4 9719

Pordenone

edge of Universal studios boss Carl Laemmle,

anti-hero every time he’s tempted to perform a

brother, enlists him in the army. Endlessly in­

less-than-wholesome deed - like blowing all his

ventive and full of wonderful comic touches,

money or his brains out. Another British offering

B ud’s R ecruit is surprising for the directorial

from 1913, The Mystic Mat (J. H. Martin), com­

talent Vidor was able to show so early in his career.

who up until then had produced a staple output

bines early I900s vaudeville with stop-the-cam-

of one- and two-reelers. In its opening week in

era gimmickry in the story of a man given a mat

Like so many directors of the silent period,

New York, the film played to 30,000 spectators,

with the power to make unwanted people disap­

the American director Rex Ingram’s earliest

and its gross receipts e ven tua lly to ta lle d

pear - until his girlfriend vanishes also.

work survives only in fragm entary form. Of the

US$450,000.7 Today the film begins with too

The 1913 film with the strongest cinematic

27 features Ingram made between 1916 and

much exposition and too many characters, but it

naturalism to come was Victor S jostrom ’s

1932, only nine survive in their entirety and two

soon improves with the help of an intricate plot and documentary verisimilitude, particularly with its use of New York inner-city locations. The climax, cross-cutting between the heroine’s sis-? ter under threat and a rooftop police raid, is impressive by the standards of any era. Frank Beal’s The Inside o f the White Slave Traffic (U.S., 1913), running 28 minutes, while less cinem atically dazzling, draws more power from the documentary approach. Bypassing Souls’ sim plicity of girls incarcerated in rooms by sheer force of terror, it gives probing insight into the more complex system of criminal net­ works and deceptions that led single, frequently impoverished women into the traffic. Produced by interests associated with the promotional activities of Samuel H. London, a former gov­ ernment inspector, it begins with a lengthy list of endorsements by experts from one side of America to the other which, according to Terry Ramsaye, placed this film at the start of the testimonial and endorsement method of motion picture exploitation.8 Judging by the evidence of 1913, independ­ ent women were far more prevalent in films of that era than history has told us. In Traffic in Souls, the heroine risks her life to make secret sound recordings of the slave traders. In Vittoria

FILMING REX INGRAM'S THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE

in part. Gathered from around the world, all

O Morte (Italy), the heroine feigns a new iden­

APOCALYPSE (1 922).

these films were screened in ’93 at Pordenone,

tity to pursue a thief through several countries

coinciding with the appearance of a new edition

by plane, ship and come-what-may. Alexander

Ingeborg Holm. Its sad, uncompromising tale of

Butler’s The Tube of Death (UK) has the wife of

a middle-class woman whose husband’s death

a murdered scientist infiltrate the gang of anar­

sends her to the poor house, brutally strips her of

been reading Michael Powell’s A Life in Movies,

chists responsible for his death before blowing

herchildren, then drives her insane, is presented

and both this and the O’Leary book give excel­

herself and the entire gang to smithereens. The

with achingly restrained truth. While most of it,

heroine of Lotus, the Temple Dancer follows a

like others from 1913, is shot from no closer than

thieving explorer from India to England to re­

medium-wide, the film gathers almost unbear­

cover a temple diamond, only to fall in love with

able force until the closing moment when

the man she’s followed, and die of a broken

Ingeborg is reunited with one of herchildren. The

heart. In the vein of the vengeful or otherwise

other Sjostrom offering of the Festival was a

‘evil’ women depicted in late 19th-Century art

recently-discovered nine minutes from his Greta

of Liam O’Leary’s book, Rex Ingram: M aster of the Silent C inem a." By coincidence I had just

lent complementary accounts of the life and work of a now forgotten director who more than half a century ago influenced the work of Powell, Erich von Stroheim, Josef von Sternberg and David Lean. Regarded by Powell as “the great­ est stylist of his tim e” , Ingram had trained as a sculptor, film actor and scriptwriter before em­

and literature9, the anti-heroine of As In a Look­

Garbo vehicle The Divine Woman (U.S., 1928) -

barking on his directorial career at Universal

ing Glass (Marion Leonard, U.S.) takes it out on

a wonderfully tantalizing fragment in which

and Metro. In league with cameraman John

a queue of men in revenge for her mother

Sjostrom and Garbo deliver what may have been

Seitz (who shot twelve of his films), Ingram

having sold her to a womanizer. As she contin­

among their best work. The vitality and magnet­

almost literally sculpted with light to create

ues to ruin lives, the action alternates with

ism with which Garbo performs, taking the initia­

vignettes of the woman hovering with claw-like

tive in a love scene with Lars Hansen, is better

fingers over successive men. The influence of

than most of her early talkie appearances before

Victorian spirit photography is strong in these

Queen Christina (1933).

some of the most luminously beautiful images of the silent cinema. Attending Pordenone, film historian Kevin Brownlow told me that Ingram tends to come across as too aristocratic and

scenes, just as it is in the closing sequence

Another delight was King Vidor’s earliest

where the heroine drinks poison and wafts

surviving film, the two-reel B ud’s R ecruit(1917).

away in phantom form.

As Vidor recalled it in his autobiography, B u d ’s

copied by the best of his peers. Erich von

The influence of spirit photography also in­

Recruit was one of around a dozen short films

Stroheim was one of Ingram ’s greatest adm ir­

vests The Tempter(F. Martin Thornton, UK) with

he made on the problems of youth for Willis

ers, and Michael Powell was to write that both

an implacable, if hilarious, power it would other­

Brown, a form er juvenile court judge from Salt

directors “shared a taste for the bizarre and the

wise have lacked. An audacious piece of ham

Lake C ity.10 Reflecting the sabre-rattling of a

dressed up with clever opticals, it supers a fish­

section of American society during World War I,

like ‘tempter’ (a Robert Helpmann-type in a wrin­

this one is a comedy about a war-crazy teen­

natory force of gold in The Conquering Power

kly rubber suit, complete with antennae) overthe

ager who, by impersonating his pacifist older

(1921), Stroheim made even more vivid use of

detached for most modern audiences, but in his time his visual achievements were watched and

erotic, the morbid and the perverse”12. Impressed with Ingram’s images of the corrupting, halluci­

CINEMA

PAPERS

97/98

. 45

the theme in Greed (1923).

film to the next, could be an actress of consid­

at the Festival, Broken Blossom s was seen vir­

erable impact given the right m aterial. But it is

tually as its director intended, appreciated by a

films - the gold monster in The Conquering

Ramon Navarro, the actor who for Ingram was

large audience with an unshakeable love and

Power, the horsemen in The Four Horsemen of

V alentino’s replacem ent after V alentino’s de­

understanding ofthe silentcinem a. This process

the Apocalypse (1921), the goddess Amphitrite

parture for Paramount, who provides the genu­

kept alive a tradition that I, for one, had previ­

in Mare Nostrum (1926) - that provide his most

ine surprise for both The Prisoner o f Zenda, in

ously had no idea still burned so brightly.

enduring images, along with such hideous sights

w hich he p la ys R up e rt of H en tza u, and

It is the allegoric flights of fantasy in Ingram ’s

as Louis XVI sipping liqueur with orgasmic de­

Scaramouche, in which he occupies the central

light in Scaramouche (1921). At least half of the

role of Andrew Louis Moreau, strolling player

surviving Ingram films are uneven, highlighting

turned revolutionary. In both films he exhibits

how much the director was inspired to heights of

far more subtlety than he was able to under

Film F e s tiv a l a re P a o lo C h e rc h i U s a i, L o re n z o

perfection by some sequences, neutral to the

Fred N iblo’s direction in Ben H ur (1926). In a

C o d e lli, P ie ro C o lu s s i, A n d re a C ro z z o li, C a rlo

point of pedestrian with others. Mare Nostrum ,

N o te s

1

W o rk in g w ith Livio J a c o b as F e s tiv a l p re s id e n t, the b o a rd of d ire c to rs for th e P o rd e n o n e S ile n t

rakishly villainous rôle he scene-steals Pris­

M o n ta n a ro , P ie ra P a ta t a n d D a v id e T u rc o n i. M o s t

cited by Liam O ’Leary, along with The Four

oner of Zenda from everyone else, and in

h a v e b e e n in v o lv e d s in ce th e first F e s tiv a l.

Horsemen of Apocalypse, The Conquering Power

Scaram ouche he runs the gamut from idealistic

and Scaram ouche, as one of his four great films,

fervour to tired cynicism while making the rôle

is a case in point. Having begun slowly without

2

T h re e A u s tra lia n film s s c re e n e d a t P o rd e n o n e , The S to r y o f t h e K e lly G a n g (C h a rle s B ye rs C o a te s & C h a rle s T a it, 1 9 0 6 ), T h e S e n t i m e n t a l B lo k e a n d

endlessly interesting.

O n O u r Se le c tio n , m a d e use of th e N F S A la b o ra ­

much impact, it suddenly jolts the viewer to rapt

Although sagging occasionally beneath an

attention with a grandly-staged ocean rescue, all

overloaded plot and the m iscasting of Lewis

th in g s, food c o lo u rin g . N e w 3 5 m m prints w e re

urgency and growing dread as the hero Ulysses

Stone (too old by at least 10 years) in the sto ry’s

m a d e of all th e A u s tra lia n film s s e n t to P o rd e n o n e ,

(Antonio Moreno) learns that his son is not among

two central rôles, Zenda is otherwise witty, fast-

in c lu d in g S u n s h in e Sally, w hich w a s b low n up

the survivors of an attack by a German subm a­

moving, well-cast and consistently well-directed.

from a 1 6 m m d u p e n e g , th e only su rv ivin g p re s e r ­

rine that he himself has supplied with oil. The film

These qualities are all the more apparent in

to ry ’s n e w tin tin g p ro c e s s w h ich e m p lo y s , of all

v a tio n m a te ria l for th a t film . T h e W o m a n S u ffe r s w a s th e only A u s tra lia n fe a tu re a b le to be s c re e n e d

boasts two other superb sequences, the first an

Scaramouche, in which the hero turns French

intricately covered, painfully real chase on foot

revolutionary to oppose a corrupt marquis -

through the streets of Marseille, the second

played by Lewis Stone (this time appropriately

being the execution as a German spy of Freya

cast). The French National Assem bly and revo­

(Alice Terry), for whom Ulysses has abandoned

lutionary scenes, visually inspired by G riffith’s

his wife and son. Dressed to the nines and

Orphans o f the Storm (1921) and predating

refusing a blindfold, Freya advances proudly

Gance’s Napoleon (1927), are far more stirring

Is la n d of G h o s t s \s a ve ry lo o s e s trln g in g -to g e th e r of a n th ro p o lo g ic a l fo o ta g e an d m in im a l d ra m a

through massed ranks of French soldiers to face

than the action in Four Horsemen, while Alice

the firing squad. The chemistry of images here is

Terry, as she had in Zenda, plays a woman pre­

heightened by such tiny details as the shocked,

pared to give up love for social advancement.

wavering expression of the officer commanding the squad.

w ith its o rig in al tintin g in ta ct. R e c e n tly -fo u n d fra g ­ m e n ts of fo o ta g e an d fre s h ly -film e d in te rtitle s to b rid g e th e g a p s w e re cut into T h e W o m a n S u ffe r s print for P o rd e n o n e by N F S A s ta ffer M a rily n D o o le y. 3

W ith fa r m o re of th e sto ry b e in g told th ro u g h its in te rtitle s th an th ro u g h its im a g e s , C o o r a b in the

s c e n e s . A c c o rd in g to film h is to rian C h ris L ong , H o m e of the B liz z a r d , w h ich c o v e re d th e 1 9 1 1 -1 3 D o u g la s M a w s o n e x p e d itio n to A n ta rc tic a , m a y no

Music was an essential component of screen­

lo n g e r e x is t in its o rig in a l fo rm . T h e v e rs io n

ings at Pordenone, with eight pianists taking

s c re e n e d at P o rd e n o n e la cks m a in an d in te rtitle s

I had wanted to be more impressed than I

their turn to play cleverly improvised or com ­

(w h e re Long o n c e s a w a c o lle c to r’s reel of th e film

was by The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,

posed scores.13A couple of newly-restored films

w ith in te rtitle s ), a n d its c o n stru ctio n fails to fo llo w

especially since Kevin Brownlow ’s restoration,

had orchestral accom panim ent, and on the final

complete with luscious tinting, toning and a

night English com poser-conductor Carl Davis

Prizm acolorsequence, made ¡tone ofthe visual

appeared for the fourth time at Pordenone to

treats o fth e Festival. But after V alentino’s m ag­

conduct his arrangem ent of Louis G ottschalk’s

nificent tango sequence, it looks for the most

original score for D. W. G riffith’s Broken Blos­

part like static theatre, with Valentino and Alice

soms (1919).

th e kn o w n c h ro n o lo g y of th e M a w s o n e x p e d itio n . 4

T h e P o rd e n o n e F e s tiv a l will c o n tin u e in 1 9 9 4 by e x p lo rin g In d ia n silen t c in e m a .

5

Lillian G is h , T h e M o v ie s , Mr. Griffith a n d M e , A von

6

In th e A tlantis re s to ra tio n ’s o n e g e n u in e m o m e n t

B ooks, N e w Y o rk , 1 9 7 0 , pp. 9 5 -6 . of h ilarity, th e h a p p y e n d in g is fo llo w e d by an

Terry (Ingram ’s wife, who appeared in most of

Broken Blossoms, which is today, according

a lte rn a tiv e , th e h e ro dying of a h e a rt a tta c k in

his films) under-utilized as everyone stands

to Russell Merritt, widely and “rightly regarded

o rd e r to s a tis fy th e liking of th e R u s s ia n m a rk e t for

about airing their problems. Sim ilarly disap­

as the richest and most nuanced of G riffith’s

u n h a p p y e n d in g s . W e a re told, h o w e v e r, th a t this v e rs io n w as s c re e n e d only in S ib e r ia - a s s u m e d to

pointing are The Arab (1923), another inert

film s” , was in its time a real risk for Griffith,

piece, and The M agician (1926), where Som er­

reproaching racial bigotry rather than condon­

set M augham ’s undernourished story leeches

ing it as he had in some of his earlier film s.14

away the Grand G uignol prom ise of Paul

Casting the norm ally-spirited Lillian Gish as

W egener as an A listair Crowley figure. Turn to

Lucy, a pathetic, physically-abused waif and

8

Ib id ., p. 6 1 8 .

the Right (~\ 921) and The Garden o f Allah (1927)

the WASPish Richard Barthelmess as the C hi­

9

S e e B ram D y k s tra , Id ols o f P erv e rs ity , O x fo rd

are occasions where Ingram tries hard to breathe

naman who tem porarily saves her, shouldn’t

U n iv e rs ity P re s s , 1 9 8 6 . A s In a L o o k in g G la s s w a s

life into thin m aterial, and his only full-talkie,

have worked. But in Broken Blossom s it does,

r e le a s e d o n e y e a r b e fo re T h e d a B a r a ’s v a m p is h

Baroud (1932), while competent, is a com pro­

with Gish and Barthelmess, through their un­

mised hybrid between the best of silent and the

derstated, minimal use of facial and body lan­

worst of early sound conventions.

guage, providing the film ’s very soul as people

be far en o u g h from th e w atc h fu l e y e s of th e A tlantis n o v e l’s au th o r. 7

T e rry R a m s a y e , A Million a n d O n e Nig hts, S im o n an d S c h u s te r, In c ., N e w Y o rk , 1 9 2 6 , pp. 6 1 2 -9 .

fe m m e fa ta le - ‘th e w o m a n w h o did not c a r e ’ b urst o nto s c re e n s w ith A F o o l T h e r e Was. 10 K ing V id o r, A T r e e is a Tree, L o n g m a n s , G re e n an d C o ., L o n d o n , 1 9 5 4 , pp. 4 5 -6 .

For my money the best of the Ingrams were

cowed to the point of inertia. The wharves,

Scaramouche, The C onquering Power, The

alleyways and squalid rooms of Broken B los­

C i n e m a , 1 2th P o rd e n o n e S ile n t Film F e s tiv a l & th e

Prisoner of Zenda (1922) and Mare Nostrum, in

soms are entirely a studio creation, heightening

B ritish Film In s titu te , 1 9 9 3 . R e p rin t from 1 9 8 0

that order. Valentino is a clear crow d-pleaser in

the claustrophobia that threatens to crush even

Four Horsemen but he and Alice Terry show

the sm allest moves that Lucy and the C hina­

infinitely more range in The Conquering Power,

man make to escape their fate.

an adaptation of Balzac’s Eugenie Grandet, in

Like everything else screened at Pordenone,

which June M athis’ script and Ingram ’s direc­

this was no faded, flickering silent barely getting

tion overcome what might have been the lim ita­

through with limited resources; rather it almost

tions of an alm ost single-set scenario. Alice

leapt from the screen with its superbly clear,

Terry, while her sideways glances and sharp

steady and tinted print accompanied by m usi­

intakes of breath become too fam iliar from one

cians of high calibre. Like almost everything else

46 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

97/98

11 Liam O 'L e a ry , R e x In g r a m : M a s t e r o f the S ile n t

e d itio n by T h e A c a d e m y P re s s , D u b lin . 12 M ic h a e l P o w e ll, A Life in M o v ie s : A n A u t o b i o g r a ­ phy, M e th u e n , L o n d o n , 1 9 8 7 , p. 1 4 2 . 13 P ia n is ts w h o p la y e d on a ro ta tio n a l b a s is for P o rd e n o n e w e re N e il B ra n d , M a tti B y e , P hil C a rli, A n to n io C o p p o la , R o b e rt Is ra e l, F e rn a n d S c h irre n , D o n a ld S o s in a n d G a b rie l T h ib a u d e a u . 14 R u s s e ll M e rritt, "In an d A ro u n d B ro k e n B lo s s o m s ”, G riffithia na, 4 8 /4 9 , O c to b e r 1 9 9 3 .

da vid bridie john phillips

Magic Boot Entertainment

projects

A n o t h e r Ita lia n

- * - »

Presents

1983-1993 a selection of works for film, television and stage

.

b o x - o f f ic e s m a s h h it

david bridie and john Phillips are co-founders of the aclaimed band not drowning, waving (as well as their own projects my friend the chocolate cake and screwtape respectively), together they have created an impressive body of work including the soundtracks for labor in pow er (tv series), greenkeeping & hungry heart (films), and south east (theatre) as well as 30 other creations p r o j e c t s is not only a selection of their work but a record that stands on its own. atmospheric but stirring, haunting but familiar, a must own

(THE BODYGUARDS)

®

A FILM BY RICKY TOGNAZZI starring Carlo Cecchi (Death Of A Neapolitan Mathematician), Enrico Lo Verso (The Stolen Children), Claudio Amendola, Ricky Memphis, Tony Sperandeo and Ugo Conti. Music by Ennio Morricone.

6 Most memorable for its convincing characterizations and relentless atmosphere of tension. 9

.

-Variety.

6 Top-drawer filmmaking. TognazzTs direction has the kind of brittle energy reminiscent of the better Cagney crime thrillers. Morricone’s music score masterfully heightens mood swings throughout. A superb ensemble cast. 9

-HollywoodReporter.

NATIONWIDE SEASON COMMENCES APRIL 14

FINALLY AVAILABLE ON VIDEO 6 Middle-aged suburban matriarchs transformed into sassy, glorious, raw and earthy pagans with attitudes. 9 Available from: Magic Boot Entertainment, 4/73 Blew Beach Road, Darling Point NSW 2027 Telephone: (02) 327 7069 Fax: (02) 362 4396

■

CINEMA

PAPERS

97/98

. 47

F IL M

R E V I E W S

Bawang Bie Ji (Farewell My Concubine); Broken Highway; The Custodian; The Remains of the Day; Schindler’s List; True Romance

BAW ANG BIE JI (FAREWELL MY CO NCUBINE) STEPHEN TEO n the style of a romantic epic, Farewell My

I

Concubine (Bawang Bie Ji) traverses a long

period in the history of China in the 20th Cen­

tury. Beginning in the 1920s and stretching into the 1970s, the period was marked by a continu­ ous succession of political convulsions and human conflict: the era of the warlords, the anti­ Japanese war, the civil war between the Na­ tionalists and the Communists, and the Cultural Revolution. That the film ’s setting is the stage of the Peking opera, and that its central characters two male opera actors, with one a huadan (an actor specializing in female roles), increase the theatrical intensity of its narrative. Director Chen Kaige seizes the opportunity to present Chi­ nese grand opera to world audiences, and, on the whole, does not disappoint. He loses no chance in introducing the odd operatic flourish, the grand gesture, and the sort of symbolic

stars who acquire both celebrity and notoriety as

stylization which is peculiar to Chinese opera.

time and political circumstances go by.

Chen’s efforts crystallize in one powerful

CHEN KAIGE'S BAW ANG BIE J I ( FAREWELL M Y CONCUBINE).

The special forte of Cheng Dieyi and Duan

ing short of homophobia. Chen is probably the

scene set during the Cultural Revolution, where

Xiaolou are the roles for which they have been

first m ajor Chinese film director to deal with

Red Guards drag the opera actors out into the

trained: the Emperor and his Concubine in the

hom osexuality, a subject that is taboo in C hi­

open, forcing them to confess their “crimes” .

play Bawang Bie J i (or The Em peror Bids Fare­

nese cinema. With no precedents to guide him,

This cathartic scene is composed so that the

well to His Concubine). These roles are the

it has been said that he has relied on stere­

victims are seen through a fire burning in the

most representative of the performing styles of

otypes.

foreground. They pour out their emotions like

Cheng (playing the Concubine) and Duan (the

There is, indeed, a foppish, fey-like quality

irate souls burning in hell, throwing mutual accu­

Emperor). The themes of love, jealousy and

to Leslie Cheung’s depiction of Cheng Dieyi,

sations at each other with the grotesque body

betrayal are culled from the text of the opera

but it is not a shallow perform ance. The charac­

movements required of operatic performances.

which revolves around love but actually deals

terization serves to offset Duan Xiaolou’s cal­

The power of their emotions are palpable, but

with honour and loyalty.

lousness and insensitivity towards his partner:

that does not reduce one’s impression that the

The screenplay, adapted and expanded from

Cheng’s dilettantism hides an element of se lf­

whole scene is eerily staged and stylized - the

a novel by Hong Kong writer Lilian Lee (or Li

doubt and it is consistent with his training as an

fire even appearing like symbolic strips of paper

Pik-wah, previously best known for Rouge/

opera actor, one who must play female roles. It

fluttering before the stage. The sensation of

Yanzhi Kou, her novel which provided the basis

is a perform ance full of nuances of denial and

emotional conflagration is beautifully sustained

for Stanley Kwan’s 1989 film), looks at life as

tragedy, traits which the character possesses

throughout the film, and we are consequently

the inverse side of the stage: what actually

all along and on which the childhood scenes are

moved by the many grand occasions when style

prevails when the characters, thoroughly caught

based. The scenes of the child Douzi (the boy­

and emotion merge in perfect fruition.

up with their parts on the stage, enter the real

hood name of Cheng Dieyi. which in turn is an

Farewell My Concubine is a melodramatic

theatre of life. Jealousy and betrayal are the

assumed stage name) undergoing exacting and

tale of love, jealousy and betrayal which tran­

tragic and ironic opposites of honour and loy­

cruel training to become a female im personator

scends melodrama by its inexorable thrust to­

alty, results of Cheng’s and Duan’s inability to

by suppressing his male side (as in his inability

wards tragedy. It is a film about two actors,

be true to their parts in life as on stage. Cheng

to master the line “ I am by nature a w om an” ,

Cheng Dieyi (Leslie Cheung) and Duan Xiaolou

sees their on-stage relationship as the ideal, for

which is substituted by “ I am by nature a man”)

(Zhang Fengyi), who are forced to grow up in the

the Emperor and his Concubine were a perfect

are so poignant that C heng’s growth into a

world of make-believe. Their world is one popu­

union. In real life. Cheng suffers an unrequited

hom osexual adult assumes a psychological di­

lated with visages of painted faces peeking

homosexual love for Duan, who rejects Cheng's

mension largely missing in the original story.

through heavy, elaborate costumes; people act

assertions that life and opera must be one.

These scenes are, in fact, additions to the

and move in ritualized manner, knowing that fate

Since its first release in Hong Kong over a

book. Chen Kaige’s own contributions to the

pre-destines all. The two actors undergo strict

year ago, a certain controversy has emerged

screenplay, which include the potent scene of a

training as young interns in an opera school run

about the portrayal of the homosexual Cheng

sym bolic castration when Douzi’s extra finger

like a virtual Borstal institution, and become

Dieyi, with critics accusing the director of noth­

on his right hand is cut off by his m other before

48 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

97/98

he can be accepted as a student in the opera school. Further additions include the character of Gong Li’s prostitute, Ju Xian. If Chen Kaige has offered audiences a stere­

social effects of the Cultural Revolution. Fare­

director and a trained director of photography,

well My Concubine looks at the Cultural Revo­

her work is merciless in its load and complexity

lution from a more historical perspective, but

of connections.

the effect of its tragedy on the private person is

Mclnnes has said that the project began

otype, Leslie Cheung subverts it with an incred­

unmistakable. The gloss and operatic grandeur

when she started writing about the atm ospher­

ible performance, one which is totally effective

makes it Chen’s most accessible and com m er­

ics of the land where she grew up: “[Wjhen I was

in imparting Cheng D ieyi’s private agony and

cial film so far. This by no means detracts from

writing, this landscape became a character,

the character’s withdrawal into his own private

Chen’s thematic cycle, his visual eye, his mas­

and out of the different locations the ‘real’ char­

realm. (Cheung, in fact, worked hard to win the

tery of detail and pacing. On the contrary, Chen’s

acters started coming together. Then came the

role, having had to take over from John Lone

grand seigneurial style points up his humanist

story.”’ This land is rural Queensland, and the

who was originally hired to play Cheng Dieyi.

preoccupations and his lofty ambitions to place

story is set in the small town of Honeyfield. It is

Lone le ft to p la y the

h u a d a n in D avid

Chinese cinema in a kind of philosophical mas­

a tale about a release from the past.

Cronenberg’s film version of M. Butterfly.) Still,

ter plan, the likes of which have not been seen

Broken Highway is very much a film which

even if Chen had failed to depict a homosexual

since the heyday of D. W. Griffith, Erich Von

works through evocation and atmospherics.

characterin his full human dimensions, he never

Stroheim, Carl Dreyer and Akira Kurosawa. (J.

Shot entirely in black-and-white, the cinem a­

loses his central theme.

Hoberman in The Village Voice has likened

tography is stunning and the sound design

The two stage partners are ersatz lovers

Chen Kaige to Irving Thalberg. Perhaps meant

haunting in the exquisite whisper and rumble of

who are unable to consumm ate a relationship.

as a put-down, the comparison is not entirely

the mise-en-scene. The film connects to so

The ultimate point of betrayal - and the cause

Inappropriate - Thalberg was similarly touched

much we know as art cinema: the heightened

of Cheng’s jealousy - comes when Duan m ar­

by grand ambitions.) With Farewell My Concu­

realism of the black and white, a kind of ensem­

ries the prostitute Ju Xian. However, Chen

bine, Chen Kaige has at last convinced W est­

ble theatricality and the strangeness of the

shows us that it is the suppressive force of

ern audiences to go along with his master plan.

surreal. Yet perhaps the most idiosyncratic ref­

Chinese society that determ ines the betrayal; such an understanding leads us to the extraor­ dinary dialectics of the condemnation scene during the Cultural Revolution, with the dra­

F u rth e r R ead in g

"4 6 e In te rn a tio n a l du Film de C a n n e s '’, Ja n E p s tein . C in e m a P a p e rs . N o. 94 . A u gust 1 9 9 3 , p. 2 6 .

1950s (East of Eden, The Night of the Iguana, Hud2, et al) through a certain literariness, not only in the sense of the considerable extent of

matic fire in the foreground, where both political

BAW ANG B IE JI (FAREWELL MY CO NCUBINE) D irected by

and private recrim inations are tossed into the

C h en K aig e. P roducer: H su Fen g . E xe cu tive p ro d u c­

same pot (all in all, one sees that the fate of

erence of all is to American art cinema of the

ers: H su Bin, J a d e H su. A ss o cia te producer: D onald

the dialogue, but also as a function of the enigma of the characters themselves. Collec­

R a n v a u d . Scriptw riters: Lilian Lee. Lu W e i. B ased on

tively weighted to a past heavy with the m elan­

the novel by Lilian Lee. D irector of photo graphy: Gu

cholia of a 1970s Fassbinder, exactly how they

political and abstract karmic ingredients). As

C h a n g w e i. Production designer: C h en H u aikai. C o s ­

came to belong to that past remains something

someone who has lived through the Cultural

tum e designer: C h en C h an g m in . Sound recordists:

of a mystery, and there is no pay-off for nutting

Revolution and joined in its excesses (as a Red

T a o Jing, Hu H e. Editor: Pei X ia o n a n . C o m p o ser: Z h a o

it out. These characters are the evocation of the

Guard, Chen criticized his own father, film di­

Jiping. Peking O p e ra director: Shi Y a n s h e n g . Peking

past that is Honeyfield. They are like sleepw alk­

rector Chen Huaikai, who has a credit as a

O p e ra music designer: Tang Jirong. Cast: Leslie C heung

Cheng Dieyi is a complex brew cooked up of

creative adviser on his son’s film), Chen has first-hand knowledge of personal betrayal in the

(C h en g D ieyi “D o u z i”), Z h a n g Fengyi (D u a n Xiaolou “S h ito u ”), G ong Li (Ju X ia n ), Lu Qi (Q u a n Jifa). Ying D a (N a K un), G e You (M a s te r Y u a n ), Li D an (L a izi). D avid

ers dreaming of the future and in need of the wakefulness which is the present - hence, perhaps, the symbolism of the opium in thefilm .

context of social tyranny. The director has, in all

Yu (R e d G u ard ). T o m so n (H .K .) Film s C o. Production

Angel (Aden Young), the sailor, arrives in

his films, pitted his characters - who are classic

in association with C h in a Film C orporatio n and Beijing

Honeyfield to deliver a box of opium to a man

idealists living in a private world of their own -

Film Studio s. A ustralian distributor: R o ad s h o w . 35 m m .

“whose soul is as cold as a hole in the ocean” .

against the might of concrete social forces, as

17 0 m ins. Hong Kong. 19 93 .

Angel is carrying out the dying wishes of his old

BROKEN H IG H W AY

wears the cowboy boots given to him by Max. In

well as abstract historical ones. Chen’s distin­ guishing feature, which in fact he shares with other Fifth Generation directors, is his tendency to deal with a clash of destinies - private des­ tiny against a social one. In one other film, 1987’s King of the Children

sailor friend, Max (Dennis Miller), and Angel

DENA

GLEESON

Honeyfield, Angel meets Wilson (Bill Hunter), a local fishermen, Elias Kidd (Norman Kaye),

B

roken Highway is an intense and ponder­

who owns all of the land and to whom Angel is

ous film. There is an aesthetic deliberation

meant to give the opium, and Catherine (Claudia

(Haisi Wang), perhaps his masterpiece to date,

about it that is alm ost too strong to bear. It is

Karvan), a young woman attached for no appar­

Chen deals with the devastating spiritual and

Laurie M clnnes’ first feature film, and, as writer-

ent reason to Wilson. These characters negoti­ ate their relationship to their past through Angel, mostly through m onologue-like dialogue which doesn’t really seem directed and is, atmos­ pheric in its expression. It seems everyone has been waiting for Max, who left Honeyfield as a young man of 17 to sail the seven seas. Max’s mother, Pauline, who drowned in the river ten years ago and whom Catherine looks very much like, is also at the centre of the collective past and is sym bolic of the love for which everyone grasps. The return of Max through Angel engages the collective melancholia and, eventually, with Tatts (David Field) as the final catalyst, Pauline, or the love she represents, is realized in the release of Catherine from Wilson to Angel’s embrace. M clnnes’ interest in “the gender disturbance between man and wom an”3 finds provocative ANGEL (ADEN YOUNG) AND TATTS (DAVID FIELD). LAURIE MdNNES' BROKEN HIGHW AY.

CINEMA

PAPERS

97/98

. 49

and idiosyncratic expression in Broken H igh­

ch oreo grap h y of the

way, and has to be one of her authorial trade­

p h y s ic a l s tru g g le to

marks. The more optim istic dynamic between

suggest a violence cold

man and woman with which the film concludes,

and hellish beyond the

namely that between Angel and Catherine as

realm of the visible. The

lovers, is traced as something of an Oedipal

pow er of e vo ca tio n ,

story.

also well carried by the

The Oedipal triangle is completed by the

s o u n d tra c k , is here

character Tatts. He is a sailorfrom the ship with

both ultimate and spe­

Max and Angel, and he fo llo w s Angel to

cific.

Honeyfield to fight him for the cowboy boots.

A s im p le ry e tju s ta s

W ithout Tatts, one gets the impression Angel

w ell-crafted narrative

would sink into Honeyfield like one of the old

moment is the shot of

cars in the scrub. Tatts is the return of M ax’s

Tatts on board ship,

father. We learn M ax’s father was a boxing

rocking in and out of

champ who pushed Max and Pauline violently

the shadow of a steel

around, and Max left Honeyfield to be a sailor

ladder as he contem ­

rather than go into the ring with his dad.

plates his “dance” with

Tatts beats Angel into a pulp in the mud. This

Angel.

scene is a replay of the past which is Max his

Broken Highway is

fatherand Pauline. O nceTatts takes the cowboy

brimming with evoca­

boots, Max/Angel and Pauline/Catherine are free

tive light and shadow,

to embrace their love and leave Honeyfield to­

and the camera move­

gether, released from the violent abuse which

ments tunnel and glide

was Max’s father/Tatts and his kind of “dance” .

to create a desire-scape

Angel has achieved his edict from Max to con­

of considerable men­

nect to the land and not be a lost soul.

ace. Frame after frame

This connection or release is ambiguous

(and frame somehow

and dram atically low-key. It is poetic in gesture,

feels more correct than

and the scene which literally represents this

shot), this all adds up to

movement of the past through to the present -

what seems to be an

the dragging of Max and Pauline’s house, cob­

attempt to conjure the ineffable, the substance

webs, gramophone records, boxing bag and all,

of desire orthe essence of art cinema. Reaching

into the river by W ilson’s boat - downloads the

for this as the story reaches for freedom and

poetry into the drama as something of a strug­

expression of love between man and woman,

gle. Characters are released from their past

Mclnnes achieves contention and poetry in re­

through physical release of material objects:

markable fusion. Perhaps a more definitive

value - perhaps invaluable. A custodian is also

the house meets the river (although cinemati-

intertextuality would have allowed Broken H igh­

a guardian - indeed, this is one of the most

cally this remains unconvincing); and presum ­

way a rhythmically more accessible dramatic

important connotations of the term, which de­

ably the river meets the sea. Yet all remains

pulse, but this film offers a fullness of mood and

rives from the latin custos, which means to

haunted by the watery grave which is the ocean.

vision rarely crafted so beautifully and thor­

guard, to keep secure and, therefore, to per­

The union between Angel and Catherine re­

oughly in Australian cinema.

petuate, even at the highest cost. The num er­

mains sym bolic of that between m other and

(W ith th an ks to Bill R outt.)

TH E C U S TO D IA N RAYMOND

A

YOUNIS

custodian is literally one who protects and takes care of something that is of great

ous connotations that this term has are crucial.

son; their love has connected, and yet the

Notes

The film, to its credit, invokes most of these, for

feeling is that man and woman remain provoca­

1

“B ro ken H ig h w a y : L a u rie M c ln n e s in te rv ie w e d by

it includes not one but at least four figures who

tively in the zone of “gender disturbance” -

Lani H a n n a h ”, C in e m a P a p e r s . N o. 9 3 . M a y 1 9 9 3 .

might be described as custodians.

although, perhaps, the release of Catherine

p. 15.

from the much older Wilson is a complem entary

2

Ig u a n a (Joh n H u sto n . 1 9 6 4 ). H u d (M a rtin Ritt.

Oedipal release, and the film aims for a neat balance.

E a s t o f E d e n (E lia K a z a n , 1 9 5 5 ), T h e N ig h t o f the 1 9 6 4 ).

3

Ibid, p. 59 .

Often the landscape is a spectacular back­ drop for the characters, as when Catherine and Angel drive along the road at night amidst the

The story concerns a policeman, Quinlan (Anthony LaPaglia), who discovers that he is surrounded by people who are “on the take”, including his colleagues in the police force. He has also just walked out on his wife. She drinks

F u rth e r R ead in g

“B roke n H ighw ay . Laurie M c ln n e s in te rvie w e d by Lani H a n n a h ”, C in e m a Pap ers. N o. 9 3 . M a y 1 9 9 3 . pp. 1 2 -7 ,

prodigiously and refers to him as a “philosopher” . (The use of this term as a pejorative in the film is

eerie, bursting firelight of burning cars. The

5 8 -9 .

based on ignorance and misinformation, and does

relationship between characterand setting, and

“4 6 e In te rn a tio n a l du Film d e C a n n e s ". Ja n E p s te in .

a grave injustice to the subject in the sense that it

between characters, as one of atmosphere

C in e m a P a p e r s . N o. 9 4 , A u g u s t 1 9 9 3 , p. 2 6 .

rather than actuality, makes the story a lot less important than the look and feel of the film. In the sense that it is the weight and poetry of

BROKEN H IG H W A Y D irec ted by L a u rie M c ln n e s . P ro ­

propagates a deeply erroneous concept.) She also makes some rather unkind remarks about his

ducer: R ich ard M a s o n . Line producer: Ju lie Forster.

manhood and his inability to operate in the “real

A s s o c ia te producers: M e re d ith K ing, G a b y M a so n .

world”, though exactly what that is is never ex­

desire that Mclnnes sculpts, her film is rem ark­

S crip tw riter: L au rie M c ln n e s . D irec to r of p h oto graphy:

plained. Moreover, his partner in the force, Church

ably powerful.

S te v e M a s o n . P roduction d e sig n e r: L e sle y C raw fo rd .

(Hugo Weaving), is clearly corrupt and expects

There are moments when the story and its

Art director: Lisa T h o m p s o n . S o u n d recordist: Paul

his “friends” , Quinlan among them, to remain

resolutely atm ospheric articulation do have the

B rin c a t. E d ito r: G a ry H illb e rg . C o m p o s e r: D a v id

silent or to be complicit in criminal activity. Quinlan,

teeth of drama. One of these moments, and perhaps the most successful, is when Tatts wrestles the prostitute (Kris McQuade) in Max’s

Faulkner. C ast: A den Young (A ngel). D avid Field (Tatts). Bill H u n te r (W ils o n ), C la u d ia K arva n (C a th e rin e ). N o r­ m an K ay e (E lia s K idd), D en n is M iller (M a x O 'D o n n e ll).

however, is haunted by the memory of his father who was "straight as an arrow” and in whose

Kris M c Q u a d e (W o m a n ). W illiam M c ln n e s (R o g e r).

death the police were implicated. Quinlan is also

hotel room for the silver charm bracelet she

S te p h e n D a v ie s (J a c k ). P e te r S ettle (N ig h t M a n a g e r)

tormented by the consequences of his father’s

wears for Max. Here, the hyper-control of the

B lack R a y Film s. A u stra lian distributor: R onin. 3 5 m m

death in relation to his m other’s life. He is sus­

black-and-white composition relaxes into the

9 7 m ins. A u s tra lia . 1 9 9 3 .

pended because of his deteriorating “mental state”.

50 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

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LEFT: QUINLAN (ANTHONY LAPAGLIA) AND FERGUSON (BARRY OTTO). JOHN DINGWALL'S THE CUSTODIAN.

becomes a more responsible citizen and a m orally-com m itted person - an astonishing

TH E REM AINS OF TH E DAY BRIAN

McFARLANE

Quinlan decides to combat corruption and

transform ation, indeed, given the opportunism

draws a num ber of people into his net, including

that one often finds in the profession in the “real

a lawyer, Ferguson (Barry Otto), an immature

world” . Perhaps there is a message here for

journalist, Reynolds (Kelly Dingwall), and a

wayward journos. On another level, it is a film

the exquisite that so characterizes their films)

young woman, Jilly (Essie Davis). Of course,

that deals with the attempt to reconcile the

have come up against an intractable problem in

his decision becomes a decisive riposte to the

ghosts of the past and the values they embod­

filming Kazuo Ishiguro’s Booker Prize-winning

barbs of his estranged wife, as well as a cata­

ied - inexorable and honourable voices - with

novel. It may have seemed to them another

clysmic response to the unforgotten legacy of

the inadequacies and the failures of the present.

breath of the past, set in a handsome English

his dead father and the tragic fate of his mother.

The film is also a brusque and occasionally

country house, and so it is; but it is more

Clearly, this is a story, in one sense, of at least

overstated critique of the m aterialistic ethic and

importantly, for its entire length, a sustained

four custodians who are trying in their distinc­

of contem porary society whose chief form of

interior monologue.

T

he M erchant-Ivory team (the very names conjure up the blend of the commercial and

tive ways to guard the integrity of the individual

worship takes place at the idol of the common

Everything about this m asterly novel is fil­

and the judicial system, the ethic of choice,

- a society where the fabric is rent by the

tered through the limited sensibilities and inhib­

responsibility and authentic comm itm ent within

opportunistic pursuit of wealth, where wealth is

ited emotional responses of Stevens (Anthony

relationships, and the importance of redem p­

used as a measurement of value.

Hopkins), butler to the well-m eaning Fascist,

tive potential, though in a purely secularcontext

The relationships in the film are also por­

Lord Darlington (James Fox), and his American

in a world which seems to be dominated by

trayed in a somewhat existentialist vein. The

successor, Lewis (Christopher Reeve), who

corruption, greed and violence.

transitions from a type of bad faith and passivity

buys D arlington’s country house after the war.

Accordingly, the use of colour, especially in

to a more active sense of choice and com m it­

Ishiguro unfalteringly maintains the buttoned-

the early stages, is som bre and shadows

ment and, further, to an acceptance of respon­

down tone of the butler, w hether in relation to

abound. To heighten the view er’s sense of

sibility for one’s actions and the momentous

his lordship’s politics or to his own repressed

mental disintegration, blues are used, for ex­

consequences of the exercise of one’s free­

feelings for the housekeeper, Miss Kenton

ample, in rooms and on walls. This serves also

dom, especially in terms of the lives of inno­

(Emma Thompson). His language is pedanti­

to link the issue of abnorm ality and disturbance

cents and others, are handled well. The strange

cally correct, with the correctness not of educa­

to the police force itself, which is often associ­

paradox of “m ateship” which provides a moral

tion but of careful copying, signified by the odd

ated, of course, with this colour. Indeed, one

foundation, even for characters who are other­

solecism (e.g., “between you and I” , which the

striking image is of Quinlan dressed in darker

wise disturbingly amoral and who feel no com ­

film faithfully transfers).

blue - though not in police uniform - lying on a

punction over the taking of a life, is presented

The nove l’s essential action is in what

bed in a hotel room in which the walls are bright

lucidly. One might call this a monstrous parody

Stevens recalls as he makes a journey in his

blue and in which it seems the whole image is

of mateship and, though it is not presented with

new m aster’s car to seek out the long-gone

awash in blue light. The effect is almost halluci­

the flair that is apparent in a film like M iller's

housekeeper whom he hopes to persuade to

nogenic, certainly, but the colour coding is trans­

Crossing {Joel Coen, 1990), the point is made

return to Darlington Hall; in what he recalls, and

parent given the custom ary associations. It is

strongly and clearly.

in how he does so: that is, it is a drama of self­

also interesting to note that the blues give way

Finally, though the build-up in the film is

to soft browns when Quinlan is with Jilly and

sometimes laboured and too measured - it is

Theoretically, one accepts that no novel is

when he is in the process of being saved. The

supposed to be, after all, a “ripping good tale" -

unfilm able: there is, after all, a version of

effect is altogether calm er and less agitating.

though the style is largely conventional and

Finnegan's Wake: but making sense of what is

The film also privileges close-ups fo ra t least

unspectacular, and though the subject matter is

an interior experience in a medium which in­

three reasons. First, as the director, John

fam iliar from countless films from The D etec­

sists on giving Stevens’ fallible recollections an

Dingwall, has stated, these draw emphasis away

tive (Gordon Douglas, 1968) to Serpico (Sidney

objective reality has proved a daunting chal­

from the locations, which are multifarious and

Lumet, 1973) to M ille r’s Crossing., this film is full

lenge. We are offered not just Stevens’ memory

discovery and of self-revelation.

potentially distracting, and allow the viewer to

of conviction. It does provoke thought on a

of Lord Darlington as “a truly good man”, but, in

focus on the characters, on their traumas and

number of important issues, not the least of

James Fox’s brilliant performance, a palpably

developm ent. Second, the close-ups draw the

which is the loneliness and isolation that an

present figure of dopey, misguided, aristocratic

view er’s gaze constantly to the appearances,

honest individual must operate in once he or

meddling in Anglo-German affairs. It now m at­

the flickerings of emotion, to the duplicity and

she is within the system which is to be uncov­

ters more whether Lord Darlington was or was

dissim ulation that is characteristic of many of

ered and, further, the achievement of a type of

not a traitor or merely a misled am ateur in

these lives. The surfaces, the faces, are scruti­

redemption through fellowship, re-established

international affairs than how Stevens re­

nized intensely in the film, as if to suggest an

relationships and the loyalty and devotion of

sponded to what he understood of his master.

unflinching gaze which is motivated by ethical

friends.

principles whose constancy even in the lives of a m inority of characters is irrevocable. The focus is m aintained as it were by another cus­ todian of another kind, whose ghostly presence is only suggested outside of the frame and the image and its internal spatio-tem poral struc­ tures. There is a consistency that colours the

F u rth e r R ead in g

“T h e C u s to d ia n ”, an in te rvie w w ith w rite r-d ire c to r John D in g w all by A n d re w L. U rb a n . C in e m a P a p e r s . N o. 95 , O c to b e r 1 9 9 3 , pp. 2 2 -6 . TH E C U S TO D IA N D ire c te d by Jo hn D in g w a ll. P ro d u c er:

A d rie n n e R e a d . E x e c u tiv e p ro d u c ers: G a ry H a m ilto n . M ik a e l B org lu n d . C o -p ro d u c e rs : D im itra M e le ti. John

In the process, Stevens, central to the reader’s interest, often seems reduced to the function of watcher in the film. With the no doubt inevitable removal of Stevens from the film ’s centre, and Anthony Hopkins' subtle, m inimalist playing almost em ­ phasizes this, what remains are a great deal of talk and a pair of parallel dramas of more or less

very artifice of the film and the very articulation

D in g w a ll. S crip tw rite r: Jo hn D in g w a ll. D ire c to r of p h o ­

of them es of corruption, expiation and atone­

to g rap h y: S te v e M a s o n . P ro d u c tio n d e sig n e r: Philip

perceptively written in Ruth Prawer Jhabvala’s

ment. Third, the close-ups highlight the moral

W a rn e r. C o s tu m e d e s ig n e r: T e rry R y a n . S o u n d r e ­

screenplay and given intelligent utterance by

dilemm as that are played out in the lives of the

cordist: B en O s m o . Editor: M ic h a e l H o n e y . C o m ­

Hopkins, Emma Thompson and the rest, but

characters and that are evident in their ges­

p o s er: P h illip H o u g h to n . C a s t: A n th o n y L a P a g lia

w h e re a s

tures, expressions and interactions. The film is concerned with a num ber of ideas

(Q u in la n ), H u g o W e a v in g (C h u rc h ), K elly D in g w all (R e y n o ld s ), B arry O tto (F e rg u s o n ). E ss ie D a v is (Jilly), S k y e W a n s e y (C la ire ), W a y n e P y g ra m (M a s s e y ),

equal significance. The talk is often sharply and

The A ge o f In n o c e n c e (M a rtin

Scorsese, 1993), despite its bold use of the verbal, leaves one with an overwhelm ing sense

and it is certainly not a vacuous one. On the

G o s ia D o b ro w o ls k a (J o s ie ), T im M c K e n z ie (B e e ts o n ).

of the look and feel - the physical and psycho­

most obvious level, it is a rites-of-passage film

R ic h a rd Hill (H a n ra h a n ). J. D . P ro d u c tio n . A u s tra lia n

logical texture - of its vanished world, The

in which a young journalist gains m aturity and

d istributor: H o yts . 3 5 m m . 1 0 9 m ins. A u s tra lia . 1 9 9 4 .

Remains o f the Day stays in the mind as a

CINEMA

PAPERS

97/98

• 51

ant’s hall are matched by the brutalities of the drawing-room. The fineness of the social detail (there’s a nice shot of the butler ironing The Times before taking it to his lordship) is matched by the grace­ ful camerawork of the team ’s usual director of photography, Tony Pierce-Roberts. The camera prowls about the house above and below stairs, through country lanes and into pubs and a thé dansant, and there are one or two discreetlyachieved effects, like the dissolves that remove Miss Kenton to Stevens’ memory, but the film can’t make all the m ateriality matter as Scorsese does. Too often the handsome effects remain pictorial rather than dramatic. It would be interesting to see M erchant-Ivory come to terms with a story in which passion, not its repression, is crucially at issue. They seem to me to have developed a decorative style that is in danger of removing them from the central arenas of human experience where the possi­ bilities of deep joy or searing pain might put decorum to flight. TH E REM AIN S OF TH E D A Y D ire c te d by J a m e s Ivory.

P ro d u c e rs : M ik e N ic h o ls , Jo h n C a lle y , Is m a il M e r ­ ch a n t. E x e c u tiv e p ro d u c e r: P a u l B ra d le y . A s s o c ia te STEVENS (ANTHONY HOPKINS) AND LORD DARLINGTON (JAMES FOX). JAMES IVORY'S THE REMAINS OF THE DAY.

conversation piece against a background of

service” , he is also aware of the “terrible m is­

producer: D o n ald R o s e n fe ld . S crip tw rite r: R uth P ra w e r

take” involved in his m aster’s views and his own

J h a b v a la . B a s e d on th e n o v el by K a z u o Is h ig u ro .

reverence for his master.

D ire c to r of p h o to g ra p h y : T o n y P ie rc e -R o b e rts . P ro ­

There is a moving sense of loss for Stevens

duction d e s ig n e r: L u c ia n a A rrig h i. C o s tu m e d e s ig n e r:

As to the parallel dramas, it may be allowed

at the end. The aristocratic ideal has been

J e n n y B e a v a n . S o u n d rec o rd ist: D a v id S te p h e n s o n .

that they are them atically linked as two studies

tarnished fo r him in the dow nfall of Lord

of delusion and disillusion. Darlington has thrown

Darlington; and, in his rigid ideas of decorum,

in his lot with the Fascists, believing that “the

he has refused to answer Miss Kenton’s pleas

handsome pictures.

E ditor: A n d re w M a rc u s . C o m p o s e r: R ic h a rd R o b b in s . C as t: A n th o n y H o p k in s (S te v e n s ), E m m a T h o m p s o n (M is s

K e n to n ), J a m e s

F o x (L o r d

D a r lin g t o n ) ,

C h ris to p h e r R e e v e (L e w is ), P e te r V a u g h a n (F a th e r),

Führer is a man of peace” and holding out for

for another sort of comm itment. His open­

appeasement, ignoring the warnings of the

mouthed shock when she tells she is leaving to

D 'lv ry ), T im P ig o tt-S m ith (B e rin ), P a tric k G o d fre y

American diplom at who becomes the post-war

marry Mr Benn (Tim Pigott-Smith), another but­

(S p e n c e r), P e te r C e llie r (S ir L e o n a rd B a x ). M ik e

owner of the house. He is utterly deluded into

ler who has “had enough of service” , leaves his

N ic h o ls -J o h n C a lle y -M e rc h a n t Iv o ry P ro d u c tio n . A u s ­

thinking that the severities of the Treaty of

feelings in no doubt, but a lifetime of suppres­

tra lia n distrib u to r: H o yts . 3 5 m m . 1 3 5 m ins. U .S . 1 9 9 3 .

Versailles were wholly the cause of G erm any’s

sion inhibits his giving voice to them. The life

problems in the 1930s. James Fox’s playing

and management of the great house (and this is

SCHIN DLER ’S LIST HA Y LEY S MO R G O N

makes it possible to sym pathize with the m is­

one of the film ’s strengths) has subordinated

guided individual while deploring the huge error

emotion in him, not only in his dealings with

into which he falls. The film does not show his

Miss Kenton but in the refusal to leave his duty

disillusion; this is simply made clear in refer­

at a banquet to attend to his dying father.

H u g h G ra n t (C a rd in a l), M ic h a e l L o n s d a le (D u p o n t

“W h o e v e r s a v ë s o n e life, s a v e s th e w o rld e n tir e .” - T h e T a lm u d

Stevens, no less w holeheartedly committed

being better played, there is simply not enough

in his loyalty to Darlington and in the lifetime of

between them to make engrossing drama. The

S

service to an aristocratic household, is as

book’s drama was in his growing perception of

the devastation, however, is the illuminating,

blinkered as his master is to other possibilities.

the nature of his loss - his perception and the

true story of Oskar Schindler (Liam Neeson),

If he comes to realize that he has lived a life of

reader’s - as the gap between his recollections

who selected eleven hundred Jews to work in

paralyzed emotions, it is too late for him to do

and what the reader infers as the “actuality”

his enamelware factory, which resulted in their

anything about this. Miss Kenton, not happily

becomes apparent. This comment is not in the

survival of H itler’s “final solution” .

m arried, nevertheless refuses to return to

cause of comparing film to novel to the detri­

Schindler, a German-Czech, arrived in Po­

Darlington Hall when Stevens finally tracks her

ment of the former, but to suggest that the film

land after the German invasion. As an enterpris­

down. Her reason is that she wants to be near

does not ever find a core of its own.

ing businessman, he joined the Nazi Party in

ences to him as a “traitor” who nearly went to gaol, of his dying “a broken man” .

However good Hopkins and Thompson are in these roles, and it is hard to imagine their

chindler’s List, Steven S pielberg’s m aster­ piece, portrays the graphic images of hum ­ an cruelty: the indifference and injustice asso­

ciated with the Holocaust. In conjunction with

her daughter who is pregnant: that is, she is

W hat one is left with are the characteristic

return for financial gains. Schindler ‘seized’ a

comm itted to life, however problematic, rather

M erchant-Ivory virtues. There is a good deal of

co nfisca ted Jew ish enam elw are fa cto ry in

than to the sterile rituals that are all that remain

sharp rendering of class nuances: this Indian-

Krakow where he made his fame and fortune

to Stevens. In the final scene, a servant having

American team is as always rem arkably as­

through illicit dealings on the black market, bribes

released a bird that has got caught inside the

sured in its dealings with English hierarchies,

and by employing the labour of unpaid Jewish

house, Stevens shuts the window, the meta-

w hether in the servant’s hall (e.g., Stevens’

workers, including Itzhak Stern (Ben Kingsley),

p ho rfo r the closing in on his own stoically-borne

requiring a particular form of address for his

an accountant to manage his business.

disillusion, reinforced by the superim position of

father, a form er butler; or the young servant

Schindler is described as a womanizer, drinker

the facade of the house. By now, he has twice

who aims at becoming a butler and “being

and felonious businessman, yet for some unex­

denied knowledge of Lord Darlington, though

called m ister’), or in the upper classes' making

plainable reason, or set of circumstances, he

he has recovered his loyalty sufficiently to say,

fun of Stevens’ incapacity to answer questions

voluntarily risks his life and fortune by utilizing

“ I am proud to have given my best years to his

about world affairs. The rigidities of the serv­

his factory as a haven for his Jewish workers.

52 • C I N E M A

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S c h in d le r’s L ist is based on the novel

faded blue. Colourization is also apparent on

The end of S chindler’s List is shot in colour.

S chindler’s A rk,1 written by the Australian au­

the coat of a little girl escaping through a Nazi

Optimistically, it reveals the survivors of the

thor Thomas Keneally in 1982. The film pays

raid. Despite her red coat and susceptibility,

Schindlerjuden (Schindler Jews) and theirfam i-

close attention to the book’s details, capable of

she flees undetected. The next time we view

lies accompanied by the song “Yerushalyim

capturing all its essence and power through the

this red coat is when it is heaped on a pile of

Shel Zahav” (“Jerusalem of Gold” ), which was

film ’s potent imagery.

rotted bodies awaiting incineration. The image

written and sung after the six-day war in 1967,

reveals the inhumanity, indiscretion and horror

when Jerusalem was recaptured by the Jews.

of the war and its perpetrators.

The scenes of optimism is attributed to the

F ilm ed in Poland in b lack and w hite, Spielberg uses that technique to create a docu­ mentary appearance, authenticating the expe­

Both instances are viewed from Schindler’s

rience. The grey tones make reference to this

point-of-view, which details the progressively

bleak, sombre and colourless period in human

slow shift in his character: from exploitation to

history. The black-and-white also exem plifies

protection of his Jewish workers.

existence of Israel as the Jewish homeland, bestowing Jews with their own identity. By posing Oskar Schindler as the hero of this film, Spielberg presents the Holocaust not exclu­

the extreme contrasts between the German life

The employm ent of hand-held cameras in

sively as a Jewish event. It belongs to world

of privilege and the adversity of the Jews. In a

various scenes adds to the realism of the foot­

history and to the domain of human ethics.

lot of cases, the faces of Jews, particularly ip

age, presenting the images as timeless and

However incomprehensible, the Holocaust was

the midst of their enforced squalor, are brightly

inexhaustible. Overall, the style of S chindler’s

a human event. It reveals thp capacity of the

lit, whereas the faces of Nazi officers are often

List is in stark contrast to all of Spielberg’s

human race to wholesale annihilation and self­

captured in shadow, particularly in their “pri­

previous films, especially his latest, Jurassic

obliteration, abusing technology for the cause of

vate” dealings with Schindler.

Park (1993), which is a marvel of computer

destruction. The Holocaust destroyed the con­

Extrem e co ntrasts are also highlighted

technology for feature filmmaking. But just as

viction that science and technology were benefi­

through the use of simultaneous montage se­

interesting as the radically different styles are

cial to the human race. As time progresses, the

quences, with such a perfect interrelation of

the structural affinities: the monstrosity of the

Holocaust persists and develops as a symbol

images we may not have w itnessed since

Nazi regime, and its embodiment in the figure of

which may influence our sensibility in times of

Francis Ford C oppola’s Godfather films. One

Commandant Goeth, is a creation of terror

depression, catastrophe and chaos.

montage sequence stands out in particular: a

equal to the m onstrosities let loose in Jurassic

S chindler’s List reveals Spielberg’s wide-

Jewish wedding ceremony in the concentration

Park. The Plaszow labour camp can even be

ranging talent as a filmmaker. He unveils, amidst

camp where the groom steps on an old light

viewed as something of a theme park lorded

all the ghastly events of the war, the pow erof an

globe in substitution of a glass, signifying the

over by Goeth for fulfilling his arbitrary, psy­

individual to “save the world entire” . The bal­

destruction of the temple; Commandant Amon

chotic fantasies.

ance of horror alongside the ray of hope consti­

Goeth (Ralph Fiennes) beating Helen Hirsh

And then there is Schindler. At first a merce­

tutes a film of wide appeal. By focusing on the

(Embeth Davidtz), his Jewess servant; Ger­

nary, enjoying the spoils of his dealings on both

Schindler story to reflect on the Holocaust, he is

mans clapping at a club; and Oskar kissing

sides, and somewhat indifferent to the fate of the

able to personalize and sympathize with sev­

some Jewish women on his birthday. The con­

Jewish people, he gradually takes on a paternal

eral of Schindler’s Jews. As a spectator, one is

role and uses up all his wealth in protecting the

able to identify with the characters, their fears,

The vivid palette composed of shades of

workers from reaching the extermination camps.

courage and determination, viewing each survi­

black and white reveal the complexities of the

In this regard, Schindler has much in common

vor’s story as extraordinary.

human characters depicted in the film. Schindler

with Dr. Alan Grant (Sam Neill), who is also a

Schindler’s List is invaluable as a film, en­

is intriguing. His persona is full of contradiction.

reluctant father-figure, overcomes self-interest

lightening the public of the consequences of

He is no saint, yet he is a saviour. The character

and capitulates to caring for his charges. Thus,

unquestioned obedience to government author­

trasts are unrivalled and repulsive.

the marvel of computer technology in Jurassic

ity, particularly in light of the rise of frightening

forced labour camp at Plaszow, too, is pre­

Park, which compensated for its lack of story and

extremists in the late 20th Century. With the

sented as perplexing. For him, the German

characterization, in Schindler’s List is matched

people, the uniform, his male comrades and

by the story’s incomparable marvel of human

AMON GOETH (RALPH FIENNES) ANP OSKAR SCHjNPLER (LIAM

superiors, weapons and horses are all the ob­

destruction and survival.

NEESON). STEVEN SPIELBERG'S SCHINDLER'S LIST.

of Amon Goeth, the SS second lieutenant of the

jects loved and honoured by the Germans, protecting him from the real love relations with women and all that was feminine. Presented as a sadistical murderer, the human element to Goeth’s character is dis­ closed through his conduct toward his Jewish slave, Helen Hirsch. He savagely beats her repeatedly be­ cause, against all the decrees of Nazi ideology, he is attracted to her. Although voluntary, his actions be­ come an alien power, enslaving him to the real interests of the state. Goeth’s dedication to Nazism over­ rides his morality. Partial colourization is restricted to two scenes in the black-and-white footage. The first is where hundreds of Jews anxiously await the oppor­ tunity to receive a blauschein - a blue stamp which prolonged their ability to work within Nazi industry. As the stamp m aterializes on the document, the imprint appears in

CINEMA

PAPERS

97/98

. 53

emergence of so-called scholars as David Irving who deny the occurrence of the Holocaust2, it is vital to maintain its visibility and render it m ean­ ingful. Spielberg, having earned his reputation as the most successful director of all time with films such as Jaws (1975), E.T.: The Extra­ Terrestrial (1982), Raiders of the Lost Ark {1 9 8 1 ) and Jurassic Park, grants the Holocaust an access into the public consciousness that no other m ovie dealing with this topic does. Spielberg makes the unthinkable understand­ able in human terms. It is a contem plative film that skilfully finds the correct balance between realism and drama. Notes

1

It is S c h in d le r ’s Lis t in th e U .S .

2

Irving has re c e n tly re c a n te d th at position (E d .).

S C H IN D LE R ’S LIS T D ire c te d by S te v e n S p ie lb e rg . P ro ­

d u cers: S te v e n S p ie lb e rg , G e ra ld R. M o le n , B ran k o Lustig. E x e c u tiv e p ro d u c er: K a th le e n K e n n e d y . C o ­ pro d u cer: L e w R yw in A s s o c ia te p ro d u c ers: Irving G lo vin , R o b e rt R a y m o n d . S crip tw riter: S te v e n Z a illia n . B a s e d on th e n o v el S c h i n d l e r ’s A r k by T h o m a s K e n e a lly . D ire c to r of p h o to g rap h y : J a n u s z K am in sk i. P roduction d e sig n e r: A llan S tars ki. C o s tu m e d e sig n e r:

It’s clearT arantino loves cinema as a popu­

A n n a B ie d ry c k a -S h e p p a rd . S o u n d recordists: R o n ald

lar form of expression. He can turn a movie on

Ju d kin s , R o b e rt J a c k s o n . Editor: M ic h a e l K ah n . C o m ­ poser: John W illia m s . V iolin solos: Is h tak P e rlm a n .

ALABAMA WHITMAN (PATRICIA ARQUETTE). RIDLEY SCOTT'S TRUE ROMANCE.

a six-piece if required, as we can see and hear (absurd humour and noir

Vicenzo Coccotti (played by the trem endously-

(Its h a k S te rn ), R alp h F ie n n e s (A m o n G o e th ), C a ro lin e

machismo and violence on either side of the

gifted actor Christopher W alken) and the stoi­

G o o d a ll (E m ilie S c h in d le r), J o n a th a n S a g a lle (P o ld e k

razor, if you pardon the poor pun).

cal, but nevertheless funny, security guard

C as t: Liam N e e s o n (O s k a r S c h in d le r), B en K in g s ley

in Reservoir Dogs

P fe ffe rb e rg ), E m b e th D a v id tz (H e le n H irs h ). A m blin

Tarantino does have an ear for dialogue,

Clifford W orley (Dennis Hopper) who, on the

E n te rta in m e n t. A u s tra lia n distributor: U .I.P . 3 5 m m .

too. Culturally and radiophonically, he is tuned

threshold of his imm inent death, enlightens the

1 9 5 m ins. U .S . 1 9 9 3 .

to the male-bonding dynamics of street argot,

dapper gangster about the “im pure” African

its absurd inflections, rituals and rhythms. R es­

origins of his ethnic identity. This scene also

TRUE ROM ANCE

ervoir Dogs is a veritable Chandleresque talk­

captures (in substantive tour de force terms)

JOHN

fest recalling some of the better lines and vivid

Tarantino’s generic-inflected propensity for sa­

metaphors of classical and neo-noir since the

distic violence. Coccotti, much to his feigned

CONOMOS

n the wake of the white-hot visual and verbal

I

pyrotechnics of Quentin Tarantino’s laudable

debut movie, R eservoir Dogs, comes Tony Scott’s ironically-nam ed, but flawed, True Ro­ mance. This is a film that showcases scriptwriter

T arantino’s biting, Pinteresque sense of hu­ mour, and his strong command of the conven­ tions and interests of past and recent film genres (especially action/crim e/no/r movies), comics, television and popular music (R&B, rock ’n’ roll and pop). It is an exhilarating, roller-coaster screenplay which incarnates a hip sensibility of the n o ir tradition. If, for the moment, we put aside the title ’s obvious references to teen comics, and call True Romance a pop-noir movie, it’s not in the critical sense of dismissing it. Although Tarantino exhibits a certain “clever-by-half” , cine-hipster’s allusive knowingness about popular culture, it would be churlish to zero in on this occasional factor of irritability in his approach to cinema, w hether as a w riter-director or hired gun. The “pop” in “pop-noir" is not a pejorative adjective, as being something equivalent to the scorching passage in White Hunter Black Heart (Clint Eastwood, 1990) when John Wilson (Eastwood in the John Huston character) gives a dressing down, and a dissertation worthy of a Harvard PhD oral presentation, to a producer’s associ­ ate on the adjective “Hollywood” (as in “you’re only a Hollywood film m aker” or “they are only Hollywood film s”).

54 • C I N E M A

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1940s. Tarantino’s assured artistry is partly

displeasure, is forced by C lifford’s egging-on

based on the realization, to quote the ever-

about how his m other’s ancestors were fucked

quotable Angela Carter, that American cinema

by M oors many m oons ago to shoot him

“provided the furniture for all the living rooms,

(C occotti’s first personal killing, as we are told

and the bedrooms, too, of the Imagination of the

by him, since 1984). It is a scene that works on

entire w orld” .1

many different levels.

Yet what True Romance clearly dem on­

True Romance Is a hyper-volatile, pop-art

strates is that Tarantino as a w riter-director is

billboard of a noir movie. It rockets along with a

preferable to Tarantino as a scriptw riter for

post-modern sensibility teeming with references,

someone else. Unless a director has an absorb­

which are not so successfully integrated into its

ing empathy for the dramatic, generic and per­

dramatic and them atic fabric. A key scene which

form ative subtleties of the script, and an overall

signals the film ’s Cinzano advertisem ent-like

kinetic understanding of its far-ranging allu­

look - despite the depressed-city environs in

sions (i.e., Sam Peckinpah, John Woo, Jean

the world of Clarence W orley (Christian Slater)

Cocteau, Marvel Comics, kung-fu movies, rock-

and Alabama (Patricia Arquette) - happens in

a-billy, doo-wop music, Martin Scorsese and

C larence’s work place: a comic and poster

Elvis), T arantino’s input could become a pre­

bookshop. This is a perfect metaphor of the

tentious charade, engaging in a disappointing

bustling, “low”-art allusions which honeycomb

exercise of heavy sign-posting.

the runaway couple’s presence throughout the

Tony S cott’s failure to capture on a regular

movie. One cannot help but feel that the w ide­

basis the many generic shifts in storytelling,

spread hip-hop referentiality is a symptom of

tone and mood is quite evidentthroughout True

the encroaching mental and physical vulner­

Romance. His particular style of directing is too

ability of the male protagonist.

oblivious to the subtleties of Tarantino’s finely-

The occasional scene between a carefully-

calibrated script. Only on occasion does Scott

framed, imaginary Elvis (Val Kilmer) - known

dem onstrate a reasonable capacity to repre­

as “le Mentor” - giving advice to Clarence on his

sent some of its more dramatic and kinetic high

next move is evidence of this vulnerability. It

points.

also telegraphs to the audience the pervasive,

However, some great and witty dialogue

cool icon that Elvis has become after his death.

does percolate through this uneven movie. One

Because Elvis has been rendered in so many

memorable scene is the multi-faceted, pun-

different and interesting ways in film, comics

encrusted “Sicilian” dialogue between mobster

and popular magazines, S cott’s tendency to

pump the Elvis angle is another problematic

quence. Drexl, with his scarred face and deadly

“baby with the bath water” , though there is a

facet of the movie.

pale eye, is worthy of Spielberg’s MelvilMan

temptation to do so. In regard to the more far-

D espite the seductive, B a dla nd s-styled

monster. Gary Oldman gives a superbly modu­

reaching nuances of Tarantino’s script, Scott’s

voice-over by Alabama, accom panied by music

lated performance that is veritably chilling. As

True Romance is just adequate as everyday

that also evokes the romantic tenor of Terence

Drexl, a Rastafarian-looking, bad-ass, white-

cinematic fare goes. Yet the film does possess a

Malick’s masterpiece, the many virtues of the

pimp schooled in the argot of black street cul­

handful of gripping performances and certain noir

script and some fine perform ances, True Ro­

ture, Oldman projects an uncanny image of

moments of action and convention, making your

mance becomes too glaringly confident in its

feral monstrosity.

time spent in the dancing celluloid aura of the

clumsy attempt to render the awesome and

As a study in character and motivation True

sinuous balletic choreography of the action

Romance has merits, especially as it applies to

sequences of d ire c to rs like Don S ie ga l,

the scene-stealing secondary characters played

Peckinpah or Woo. This is evident in the penul­

by Walken, Hopper and Oldman. These three

M o v ie s ”, in th e a u th o r’s p o s th u m o u s co llec tio n of

timate sequence where we encounter a triple­

exceptionally-capable and galvanizing perform­

e s s a y s titled E x p letiv es D e le te d , V in ta g e , Lon­

sided Mexican stand-off bathed in a shower of

ers form the cornerstone of this full-throttle (“I

don, 1 9 9 2 , p. 1 3 1 . C a r te r ’s en d u rin g cin ep h illic

white feathers and blazing guns. Aside from the

want to live hard and fast and leave behind a

in te rests can be m e a s u re d by her m oving id e a of

intricate moves necessary for the sequence’s

good-looking corpse”) n o ircomedy. Both Slater

hiring a c in e m a (a fte r sh e p a s s e d a w a y in ea rly

choreography of action, Scott fails to deliver the

and Arquette are quite serviceable in their re­

more subtle and moving contours of such elabo­

spective “teen” character roles. We are enticed

rate gunplay. Instead, the broad, cartoonish

to know more about them in the movie’s early

humour of the set-piece m itigates against its

scenes where Clarence, a lonely, popular-cul­

more pliable, low-key, m ise-en-scene dynam ­

ture buff who lives by an almost Kantian clock­

ics. True Romance is shot through with a crip­

work sense of reality, and Alabama meet in a

pling “air b ru sh ” m e n ta lity fo r creating a

cinema watching a kung-fu movie. So, too, the

frenetically-paced action comedy.

scenes where the couple try to extricate them­

movie theatre a reasonable 116 minutes or so. Notes

1

A n g e la C a rte r, “R o b e rt C o o ve r: A N ight at the

1 9 9 2 ) for a w e e k , and playin g her fa v o u rite s m o v ­ ies to her frien d s as a final g e s tu re of frien d sh ip . I h ope this is not an a p o c ry p h a l story. TRUE RO M ANCE D ire c te d by T o n y S co tt. P ro d u c ers:

Bill U n g e r, S te v e P erry, S a m u e l H a d id a . E xe c u tiv e p roducers: J a m e s G . R o b in s o n , G a ry B arb e r, Bob W e in s te in , H a rv e y W e in s te in , S ta n le y M a rg o lis . S crip tw rite r: Q u e n tin T a ra n tin o . D irec to r of p h o to g ra ­ phy: J e ffe re y K im ball. P roduction d e sig n e r: B en jam in

N ottha tth e film is clumsy In toto. It has a fair

selves from Drexl, Vicenzo and their taciturn

F e rn a n d e z . C o s tu m e d e sig n e r: S u s an B e c k e r. S ou n d

few engaging sequences, scenes and gestures

hoods (who progressively feature weird macho

recordist: W illiam K a p la n . Editors: M ic h a e l T ro n ic k,

-th o u g h these are, admittedly, more to do with

beliefs, tics and a pervasive “Three Stooges”

C h ristian W a g n e r. C o m p o ser: H a n s Z im m e r. C ast:

Tarantino’s scriptwriting than with Scott’s direc­

sense of violent humour) are finely chiselled. But

C h ristian S la te r (C la re n c e W o rle y ), P atric ia A rq u e tte

tion. Where Scott excels is in anothersequence:

the couple becomes progressively less engag­

(A la b a m a W h itm a n ), D en n is H o p p e r (C lifford W o rle y ),

an intensely violent confrontation when Clarence

ing as the film furiously unspools toward its

announces to Alabam a’s pimp, Drexl Spivey

inevitable (“Here we are in Mexico on a glorious

(Gary Oldman), that she is through with whor­

beach with our child and things okay”) ending,

(L e e D o n o w itz), S a m u e l L. Jack so n (Big D o n ). M o rg an

ing. In terms of action dynamics, dialogue and

which is shot through with a golden light evoking

C re e k P roduction in as so c iatio n w ith D a v is Film . A u s ­

mise-en-scene, this sequence is more convinc­

the blissful patina of an early-1970s surfing movie.

tralian distributor: R o a d s h o w . 3 5 m m . 11 6 m ins. U .S .

ing than the already-fam ous penultimate se­

One should not throw away the proverbial

G a ry O ld m a n (D re x l S p iv e y ), B rad P itt (F lo y d ), C h ris to p h e r W a lk e n (V ic e n z o C o c c o tti), V a l K ilm er (M e n to r), C h ris P en n (N ick D im e s ), S a u l R u b in e k

1993.

*

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CINEMA

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. 55

A comprehensive overview of the Australian cinema from 1896 to the present day.

Written by eight noted cinema experts, with over 300 striking stills. Includes major articles on the documentary film in Australia and the exciting work of short-film makers. An essential companion for anyone interested in Australian films and filmmaking. Available February $24.95 pb

A L L E N & UNW IN 56 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

97/98

K

REVIEWS

Sites

of difference : CINEMATIC REPRESENTATIONS OF ABORIGINALLY AND GENDER

selective, examination of cinematic rep­ resentations of Aboriginality and gender over 35 years. She begins with an expla­

Karen Jennings, Australian Film Institute, South

nation for the selection of the films which

M elbourne, 1993, 88 pp., pb, rrp $14.95

by the end of the study seems to be

MARCUS

BREEN

To retreat from this challenge, to say that this opportunity is beyond our reach as a nation, beyond the limits of our collective intelligence and goodwill, would be to betray not just the indigenous people of Australia but ourselves, our traditions and our future.1

fading. This is the second recent exam ­ ple of a book which begins with a bold assertion of eclectic theoretical ideas which rapidly moves on to the substance of the writing without referring to the connections that need to be made to the theory. In both cases, the books were reworked Masters and Doctoral theses. Despite this disappointing disjunction

Films come ahd go, but discourse goes on

between theory and practical cultural

forever. And part of the terrain in which the ebb

analysis, Jennings has a useful project

and flow of debate and discussion takes place

in mind. It is, she says, to examine “the

¡¿The small m agazines and journals that pepper

ways in which ‘racial’ difference is in­

the newsagencies, specialist bookstores and

scribed ideologically within the textual

subscription-only publications. In their own

features and generic conventions of spe­

ways, each publication bespeaks a new im agi­

cific films and on analysing the ways in

nation taking up the valuable task of reading

which audiences are positioned in rela­

and re-reading film s in public. Such ventures

tion to these” (p. 6). Even 30,000 words

are usually exciting events, often presenting

makes this target massive.

fresh voices and perspectives seeking to break out of the established tram lines of activity.

The result of this research intention is a superb reading of films, in particular the mise-

Nice Coloured Girls (1987) and Night Cries: A

So the launch of The M oving Image by the

en-scene as signifier approach. And it is here

Rural Tragedy (1990), could be another book.

A F I’s Research and Information Centre is to be

that Jennings’ work exhibits what Adrian Martin

Nevertheless, the chapter on docum entary

welcomed. This venture has the (relatively)

called “a certain textual-analytical fa cility”2.

film m a kin g, w hile skating over dozens of unmentioned documentary films, points to Two

substantial resources of public funding to sus­

Martin maintains that this approach has dropped

tain it. This is a luxury not always enjoyed when

out of cinema study and criticism in recent

Laws (1981) and My Survival as an Aboriginal

working for, and on, small magazines.

years, to be replaced by the contextualizing and

(1 9 7 9 ) as fin e

political-econom y approach to research and

filmmaking, producing equally brilliant results.

analysis.

Which brings to mind the opening quote made

With this sort of public funding oomph, the venture can afford to be somewhat grandiose,

illu s tr a tio n s

of e n g a g e d

and why not? We need a few publicly-funded

In Jennings’ work, the textual analysis is

by Paul Keating when introducing the Mabo

grand ventures that don’t look and sound like

valorized to such a degree that context seems

legislation to Federal Parliament: there is a

the Olym pic Games for 2000! But the plan to

to fade from view. Such a frustrating approach

desperate need to find new and better ways of

make The M oving Image a four-tim es-a-year

fails to make the obvious connection between

expressing our collective and individual lives.

publication of about 30,000 words per issue

text and context. As Gay Hawkins has pointed

Although this criticism is detailed and not very positive, this first issue of The M oving

may be asking too much of the small comm unity

out in her study of comm unity arts in Australia

of Australian film w riters - not to mention the

(From Nimbin to M ardi Gras: Constructing Com­

Image offers numerous insights that should

even sm aller com m unity of researchers. A n­

m unity Arts), the discourse between text and

provide a valuable starting point for other w rit­

other question is w hether an audience will be

context is the point at which meaningful nego­

ers in the field and the editors responsible for

found to subscribe. It’s a challenge the six-

tiation occurs.

the publication (of which Jennings is one). The

person editorial board and the AFI itself many not find easy to sustain.

Jennings is sensitive to this view and tries

unwieldy dim ensions of this first issue suggests

hard to suggest ways of negotiating scenarios

the need for a concentrated editorial policy,

All of which means that the first publication

and political contexts. Ultimately, however, her

aimed at assisting writers to maintain the focus

of a new venture is exam ined more closely than

resort to detailed textual analysis often floats

of the material.

subsequent ones, which can be a blessing for

free of the broader political concerns she out­

the w riter seeking recognition for, and criticism

lines in the introductory theoretical chapter.

This is a welcome and healthy addition to Australian film scholarship. Karen Jennings has

of, the work, while it can also mean that later

The scope of the book is, as she more or less

gamely put her work on the line and made a

efforts are less noticed. Again, it is to be hoped

admits, too wide. The chapter on documentary

significant contribution to the discourse on Aus­

that this is not the c a s e ... which brings me to the

film does not sit easily within the rest of the

tralian film and society, by being first in line. I

substance of this review of the first issue of this

material on Aboriginal representations in fea­

look forward to seeing and reading more good

brilliant publishing initiative.

ture films, while the penultim ate chapter on

reports from the coal face of Australian film

experim ental films, such as Tracey M offatt’s

studies.

Karen Jennings undertakes a detailed, yet

CINEMA

PAPERS

97/98

. 57

Book Reviews

credible and self-consistent” . Sterritt

Mitch (Rod Taylor) makes to throw a stone at

him self cites the “dialogic” principle of

some crows, and Melanie (Tippi Hedren) inter­

literary theorist M. M. Bakhtin, whereby

venes. Sterritt can’t work this out: “it’s not clear

“‘everything means, is understood, as a

w hether [M elanie] dreads stirring up the situa­

part of a greater w hole’” (p. 6). In other

tion or [whether she] feels some strange, re­

words, everything is both relative and

sidual concern fo rth e birds” (p. 138). Actually,

subjective. My point is that some such

M elanie’s passivity here, and M itch’s opposite

assum ption about the limits of our un­

reaction, has echoes of the Scottie-M adeleine

derstanding is implied in the typically

relationship in Vertigo, where M adeleine’s qui­

physical Hitchcock climax. Or, at any

etude is almost Buddhistic, something which

rate, th at’s what I inferred when I read

sim ultaneously fascinates and repels Scottie.

S territt’s oxymoron concerning a m ur­

(The Buddhistic, or mystic, element is even

der with an “inescapable life” of its own!

more pronounced in the short novel, by the

Arguably, only life itself, conceived as a

way.) Moreover, an am bivalence towards se lf­

force, is absolute - and even it needs

a b a n d o n m e n t a ls o o c c u rs e ls e w h e re

death to give a measure.

Hitchcock’s work.

in

From this it seems to follow that, as

I’m saying that Sterritt never defines what is

living persons, we should be humbled

at stake here. This, despite the follow ing accu­

by anything that reminds us of our true

rate account of The Wrong Man\

state, about which philosophy is unable

th e c lo s e s t M a n n y m a y c o m e to tr a n s c e n d e n c e

to speak either fully or directly. If I had to

o f his p a s s iv e /m a s o c h is tic d a ily life is, iro n ic a lly ,

characterize in a phrase the cautionary

th ro u g h a n u ltim a te a c t of s u b m is s io n [in p ra y e r]

message at the end of Lifeboat or of The

to th e u ltim a te d o m in a tin g p o w e r, [p. 8 1 ]

Birds, “be hum ble” might be as apt a description as any. Here seems a suitable place to ex­

TH E FILMS OF ALFRED H ITC H C O C K

And despite this true description of the end of Psycho:

plain H itchcock’s “detachm ent”., which I

N o rm a n [A n th o n y P e rk in s ] h a s a c h ie v e d w h a t

suggest is what defeats S territt’s attempts to

H itc h c o c k ia n c h a r a c te r s s o m e tim e s d r e a m of

pin the films down. In an obvious way, it causes

bu t ra re ly a tta in : a s ta te o f p r e -O e d ip a l c o n ju n c ­

David Sterriti, Cambridge University Press, New

him to make points about the film s that are one­

tion w ith a n u tte rly u n d iffe r e n tia te d o th e r, in this

York, 1993, 165 pp., rrp $25 (pb), $90 (hb)

sided. Quoting Tania Modleski (whose 1988

KEN

book on Hitchcock is exemplary), he describes

MO G G

David S territt’s prim er on Hitchcock seems fo r­

c a s e th e m o th e r -s e lf w ith w h o m N o r m a n h a s c o n s o rte d fo r so lo n g . [p. 1 1 7 ]

an important Hitchcock theme as ‘“ fear of the

That is, Norman consumm ates what classi­

devouring, voracious m other’” (p. 7) - without

cist Norman O. Brown, in Life A gainst Death

ever a boutto pin down something crucial about

noting, however, the concom itant theme which

(1959), calls the Oedipal project of becoming

the films, but never quite succeeds. In the end,

concerns love for the ‘good’, nurturing mother,

father of oneself. The question is: Does he do it

Hitchcock’s detachm ent defeats both the critic

something felt most strongly in some films where

by finally ‘possessing’ the mother or, rather, by

and his definitions. Even so, I commend what

that m other is absent (like the 1937 Young and

being possessed by her? In any case, what I’d

he says about the climax of Lifeboat (1943).

Innocent), but not wholly missing from the de­

now like to note is this: How close do Hitchcock’s

The moral issues raised when Willy, the Nazi U-

piction of Mrs Brenner in The Birds.

films come to merging W est and East? Norman

boat captain, is killed by a “crowd of ‘good

Or, again, Sterritt refers to the film s’ “equa­

in his cell at the end of Psycho, draped in a

guys’” are subordinate to the m urder itself,

tion of knowledge and danger” (p. 7), making

blanket that makes him resemble a Buddhist

“which has its own inescapable life” (pp. 17-8).

much of H itchcock’s repeated use (in 1934 and

monk, and intoning, “ I’m not even going to swat

This shows how in H itchcock’s universe “pro­

1956) of the title The Man Who Knew Too Much.

that fly” , provides at least a parody of what

foundly physical conflict” is the arbiter. This is a

(Forthe record, though, that title comes from G.

Buddhists (and Hindus) call Nirvana, the aboli­

very good point, it seems to me.

K. Chesterton, who used it for a collection of

tion of individuality when it is fused into the

As a test, consider these six key films to

tales in which conventional justice has to be

collective soul ...

which the book devotes individual chapters:

waived - danger or no danger.) But, equally,

Blackm ail (1929), Shadow o f a Doubt (1943),

there are other Hitchcock films whose charac­

imply a way of seeing what lies ‘beyond’ the

The Wrong Man (1956), Vertigo (1958), Psycho

ters clearly know too little, among them The

particular film or world his characters inhabit.

(1960) and The B irds( 1963). Only in the case of

Wrong Man and The Birds. In short, Hitchcock

This is largely what I meant above when I

The Wrong Man does physical conflict or its

takes life as he finds it, and it’s the resulting

referred to characters who know too little. In

threat noffigure prom inently at the climax - and

com plexity and ambiguity which Sterritt notes

Vertigo, the Chinese symbol for ‘double happi­

even there it is latent in the face-to-face con­

but never quite embraces.

n ess’ goes a pp a re n tly unrem arked in the

Surprisingly often, in fact, H itchcock’s films

frontation of ‘M anny’ Balestrerò (Henry Fonda)

In a more subtle way, too, Hitchcock’s de­

wrought-iron railing outside S cottie’s frontdoor.

with his ‘double’. But now, is this element of

tachm ent puts him where Sterritt (a film re­

And at the end of H ear W indow (1954), the title

physical force really the most important thing?

viewer for The Christian Science Monitor) seems

of the book which Lisa (Grace Kelly) pointedly

What about a tendency of the films to finally

reluctant to go - though not before saying that

does not read is, suggestively enough, Beyond

push ‘beyond’ philosophy (though not, I think,

the films sometimes signify “that heaven and

the High Himalayas.

beyond morality)?

earth may indeed contain more things than are

This review, then, has had a hidden agenda.

Repeatedly, as I read S te rritt’s detailed

dreamed of by a m aterialistic philosophy” (p.

Earlier, I quoted Bertrand Russell on how no

descriptions of the films, I thought of Bertrand

81). More than once, Sterritt is puzzled by

one has yet invented “a philosophy at once

Russell’s salutary remark that “no one has yet

Hitchcock’s dem onstrations of “negative capa­

credible and self-consistent” . If there’s one per­

succeeded in inventing a philosophy at once

bility” , such as a scene in The Birds in which

son who disproves that com m ent it’s surely the

58 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

97/98

(1788-1860), still virtually the only serious thinker

LIGH TIN G BY DESIGN: A TE C H N IC A L GUIDE

siderations and how to deal with the business

in the W est to combine elements of Western

Brian Fitt and Joe Thornley, Focal Press,

side of things.

and Eastern thought. The key to Schopenhauer’s

Oxford, 1992, 321 pp., pb, rrp $29.95

G erm an p h ilo so p h e r A rth u r S chopenhauer

philosophy and ethics is his emphasis on Will, or life-force. And I must say that in recent times I’ve learnt far more about Hitchcock’s films from studying Schopenhauer than I have from read­ ing Sterritt! W here Schopenhauer is lucid and certainly as self-consistent as any universal thinker could be, Sterritt is still groping towards an understanding of Hitchcock in a global con­ text - where, indubitably, the director and his films belong. Still, I’m not saying that parts of Sterritt’s book aren’t fun to read. The best chapter is the one on Psycho, which draws heavily on Freud to spell

TH E CO N TR O L OF LIG H T Brian F itt and Joe Thornley, Focal Press, Oxford, 1992, 184 pp., pb, rrp $49.95 LEILANI

HANNAH

Lighting by Design is the parent book of the two. It is a little perplexing as to why the authors decided to publish The Control of Light, since it reproduces word-for-word some of the chap­ ters in Lighting by Design. In the preface of The C ontrol of Light, they explain this by stating that after writing Lighting by Design they realized the need for a book purely on the control of light:

out the film ’s running-gag concerning money and

on m aintaining lighting equipment, safety con­

Lighting by Design is a thoroughly-detailed technical manual that considers many aspects rarely found in technical publications (safety, servicing and contracts, for example). In addi­ tion, it contains a complete colour chart of available gels, a glossary of lighting terms, a world television-and-m ains-voltages table, a table of all available lamps and their output and range at spot and flood, and a table of luminare symbols. This book takes a different slant to most technical books, as it includes very detailed historical information on the topics covered in each respective chapter. The opening chapter, “Theory of Light” , is an introduction to the early

“anal-compulsive” behaviour. In particular, Sterritt

A v a s t a m o u n t of in fo rm a tio n is a v a ila b le on th e

discoveries of light: Franz Boll’s discovery of

stresses the characters’ attachm ent to what

a rt of lig h tin g th e s u b je c t, a n d h o w to c o n tro l th a t

“Visual Purple” , Jan Evanelista Purkinje’s dis­

they’ve ‘made’, beginning with the millionaire

illu m in a tio n . H o w e v e r , th e re is a s u rp ris in g la c k

Cassidy’s pleasure in “dumping out” $40,000 for the women in Lowery’s office to admire. Later, after Marion’s car with the wad of money in its boot has bottomed in a faecal swamp, Norman

of m a te ria l on th e te c h n ic a l a p p ro a c h to lig h tin g th e s u b je c t. W e h a v e s e t o u t to e x a m in e light a n d to try to e x p la in th e te c h n ic a l a s p e c ts of c o n tro llin g it.

covery of the human eye’s ability to change from colour perspective during daylight to blackand-white perception at night, Newton’s dis­ covery of refraction of light, and Heinrich Hertz’s discoveries of the properties of electrom ag­

retains his own “illicit bundle” - his mother’s

This seems a rather vague differentiation,

netic waves. All of this background information

corpse. “The m ovie’s symbolic order” , we’re told,

and there are some chapters included from

is very engaging and makes much of the tech­

“remains entirely intact, its first energizing object

Lighting by Design that could be argued are not

nical data that is required to be understood

im pressively exchanged for one far larger,

technically related to “the control of light” -

today relative and accessible.

smellier, and more forbidden.” (p. 110)

chapters such as “Servicing, maintenance and

My sole criticism of this is that Sterritt doesn’t

hired equipm ent” and “Safety” .

For example, by describing the evolution of such things as tungsten lamps, blackbody ra­

This said, this review will concentrate on

diation and colour temperature, the book pro­

always turn once more to Brown’s Life Against

Lighting by Design which contains all of the

vides a historical context which highlights the

Death (which frequently cites Schopenhauer and

chapters. This is not a book that discusses

inherent interconnectedness of this data. This

Nietzsche, as well as Freud) and read there

lighting techniques or the æsthetics of lighting.

is an approach seldom found in technical pub­

see the joke’s point. For that, though, you can

about our society’s unconscious equation of fae­

Basically, it is a book that explains the princi­

lications on lighting, and is an approach the

ces with child, gift, property, and even weapon;

ples of light and the way we have come to

authors maintain throughout the book on all of

and about why any ‘puritanical’ desire to tran­

control and measure it. In doing so. it covers

the subjects discussed.

scend the body - such as I think Marion Crane

topics such as light meters, lighting sources,

It is also very uncommon to see such de­

shows in Hitchcock’s film - ironically posits that

systems for rigging lights in studios and stages,

tailed information on stage and studio lighting

body’s continued status as excrement.

and electrical information. It also gives advice

design. With regard to this, the authors cover considerations such as safety aspects of de­ signing lighting systems for studios and stages, how to go about drawing up a plan for a building that has no existing lighting system, special considerations for stage lighting design, televi­ sion studio lighting, and air conditioning, power and acoustic requirements. A significant chapter is one concerning light measurements. Once again, the chapter begins with a historical perspective relating artificial light to "caveman's times” and man’s desire to extend the hours of daylight for one’s own pur­ poses. They discuss the evolution of methods for creating artificial light and the need to create a standard for measuring light intensity - which is the footcandle. They also explain the equation of lux to footcandles and properties of light. There is a lot of information aimed at gaffers in business, such as problems to avoid while buying or hiring equipm ent, understanding m anufacturer’s catalogues and diagrams, as­ sessing the m anufacturer’s quote of colour tem ­ perature, negotiating and writing specifications

CINEMA

PAPERS

97/98

• 59

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T E R W O R T H N E M A N N

97/98

$69.95

B u t t e r w o r t h - H e i n e m a n n A u s t r a l ia , a d iv is io n of R e e d I n t e r n a t i o n a l B o o ks A u s t r a l ia P ty Ltd. I n c o r p o r a t e d in N S W A C N 001 0 0 2 357 PO Box 5 5 7 7 , W e s t C h a t s w o o d N S W 20 5 7 T e l e p h o n e : (02) 3 7 2 5511 Fax: (02) 3 7 2 5 5 7 0

Book Reviews

for Jhe equipm ent you need, awarding con­ tracts, etc.

Cinematic portrayals are seen to

Another chapter that one doesn’t often see

old tra d itjo n th a t began w ith

be a continuation of a centuries-

14th-Century

in the§e kind? of hooks is one Oh servicing,

Giorgio Vasari’s

m aintenance end hjrepl equipm ent which cov­

ographies of Renaissance artists.

ers advice pn yyhgt spares end expendables to

The mass m edia’s focus on the

hold a.nd hpw much responsibility should be

individual merely repeats the prac­ tice of such classic art history texts.

taken pn boarpl fd rh ife d equipm ent. They also

bi­

explain the EN 60598, vyhiph ip a set .of safety

M otivated by an interest in

s ta n d a rd s p u b lis h e d by the In te rn a tio n a l

truthful representation, W alker is

Electrotechnical Commission. But with Aus­

led to the following conclusions.

tralia currently in the process of introducing a

Most of the films focus upon the

new set of safety codes and regulations, this

artist rather than the art. The work

serves more as a basic guide to safety rather

is m arginalized, often seen to be

than an indication of legal standards required to uphold.

an expression of personal subjec­ tivity rather than a construction

There are very few books available on the

motivated by a cause or reason.

m arket today that are as diverse and detailed in

The history, social context and in­

their information. Lighting by Design is a rare

frastructure of the art world are

find among technical volumes and is a w orth­

sketchy at best. He further con­

while addition to the needs of any gaffer, direc­

cludes that in a film which seeks to

tor of photography or theatre lighting designer.

condense an entire life into one hundred minutes, often all that remains are the melodramatic in­

A R T & A R TIS TS ON SCREEN

cidents, the romantic relationships

John A. Walker, M anchester University

and the tempestuous or suicidal

Press, M anchester-N ew York, 1993, 226 pp., pb, rrp $35

tendencies. The dominance of a

ANNA

DZENIS

white European male genius is universally evident, except for the in c lu s io n of the film

C a m ille

John W alker’s book A rt & Artists on Screen

Claudel. (Camille Claudel was the

acknowledges that m illions of people experi­

sculptor who was Rodin’s mistress.

ence the fine arts second hand via “the m ovies” .

In any case, this film transgresses the original

bound is also unfavourably compared with the

W alker aims to provide a critical study of “those

parameters of the study to only examine key

“more complex, interesting and much earlier Un

key English language film s” about art and art­

English language films. The rea so n fo rits inclu­

Chien Andalou [Luis Buñuel, 1928]” .

ists from 1930 to the present day. He is re­

sion, and by implication the exclusion of all

Hence W alker rapidly argues himself into an

se a rc h in g the n a tu re and q u a lity of this

other “foreign language” films, is never ex­

unenviable position. While recognizing the im ­

experience. Coming as he does from an art

plained.)

portance of the cinema as a mainstream com ­

historical background, he also proclaims that, Historians must take an interest in the audio­ visual world, if they are not to become schizo­ phrenics, rejected by society as the representatives of an outmoded erudition, [p. 1]

W alker finds American films of the 1970s

m u n ic a to r,

his

s tu d y

of th e

c in e m a tic

and ’80s to be even further compromised. The

representation of art and artists reveals a his­

selection here may surprise, ranging as it does

tory of compromise and failed promises. The

from The Towering Inferno (1974), Manhattan

disappointing nature and extent of this com pro­

(1979), An Unm arried Woman (1978) Beverly

mise sadly dominates most of the text.

Hills Cop (1984), A fter Hours (1985) 9 1/2

The disappointm ents are, however, inter­

In this way, the project begins positively,

Weeks( 1989), Legal Eagles (1986), Wall Street

spersed by occasional moments of joy. Derek

locating itself in a contem porary framework,

(1987) and the “ Life Lessons” episode of New

Jarm an’s Caravaggio and Peter G reenaway’s

and is motivated by a passion for the arts and an

York Stories (1989). In these films, according to

The D raughtsm an’s Contract (1982) and The

evident love for the object. The study is divided

Walker, the art world, particularly New York,

Belly o f an Architect (1987) are revered as

into four sections: I. Bio-pics of real artists; 2.

appears as an exotic, decadent domain, with

articulations of new hope, new possibilities.

Films about fictional artists and architects; 3.

designer lifestyles, an aura of perverse eroti­

Caravaggio is described as more poetry than

Artworks, dealers and critics in films; the artist

cism and the greedy accum ulation of expensive

subjective response in the medium of film to the

in Hollywood; and 4. A rtists’ films and arts

commodities. What is therefore ignored is the

painter’s life and work. Jarm an’s creative deci­

documentaries.

possibility of alternative artistic practices and

sion to offer contemporary paraphrases rather

cultural milieus, such as fem inist and socialist

than recreate C aravaggio’s work is highly

artists and their art.

praised. Greenaway’s The D raughtsm an’s Con­

The film biographies of artists selected for study include Rem brandt (Alexander Korda, 1936), Moulin Rouge (John Huston, 1952), Lust

The Selznick-Hitchcock-Dali collaboration

tr a c ts described as the result of a conjunction

for Life (Vincente Minnelli, 1956), The Agony

on Spellbound (1945) is singled out for special

of fine art, avant garde film, European art cin­

and the Ecstasy (Carol Reed, 1965), Caravaggio

attention because it’s a celebrated case of an

ema and film theory. For Walker, Greenaway is

(Derek Jarman, 1986), O viri (W o lf a t the Door,

artist coming to Hollywood. This is a particularly

always conscious of the pleasure of imagery, language and scholarship, delighting in playing

Henning Carlsen, 1986), and Camille Claudel

scathing attack. W alker labels Salvador Dali

(Bruno Nuytten, 1988). Each piece is illustrated

the first exploitation artist, claiming that during

games with the conventions of film and genre,

by production stills of the actor next to a veri­

his years in America he exploited his early

constructing films which are surprising, witty

sim ilar etching, painting or photo of the artist

achievements, and that of Surrealism in gen­

and visually stunning.

under study. In defence of Hollywood, such

eral, for cash, publicity and notoriety. Spell­

For Walker, the artistic success of these

CINEMA

PAPERS

97/98

. 61

Book Reviews

film s can be explained by the background of the

“The Net” , we are living an excit­

film m akers. Greenaway and Jarman are ex­

ing and unclaimed artistic future.

ceptional because they originally trained as fine

Such contem porary cultural prac­

artists. And so, by im plication, these rem ark­

tices radically redefine our rela­

able film s are not so surprising at all. It is the

tio n s h ip

power and the prim acy of the fine arts.

endeavour. In this light, A rt & A rt­

to

a rt

and

a rtis tic

The real contribution of W alker’s book is to

ists on Screen appears strangely

begin mapping a genre in a field of study where

anachronistic, like the practices it

there has been very little coherent work. How­

a d m o n is h e s .

ever, as W alker looks backward to a betrayal of

W alker has fallen prey to his own

promise and possibilities, it is the gaps in his

warnings, of being “rejected by

critical practice which are most suggestive for

society as the representative(s) of

future analysis.

an outmoded erudition.”

P e rh a p s

Jo h n

Lim iting this study to “key English language film s” may encourage a particular kind of ideo­ logical analysis, but it also means m ajor exclu­ sions. Fascinating, magical imm ersions into artistic process and practice such as Tarkovsky’s A n d re i R ubelev (1966), R ivette’s La Belle Noiseuse (1991) and Corneau’s Tous Les M at­ ins du Monde (1992) w arrant attention and rapture. However, there is no place for them in W a lk e r’s stu dy. Even the fa vou re d P eter Greenaway has been limited to only two films

AU S TR A LIA N FILM 1 9 7 8 -1 9 9 2 A SURVEY OF H IS TO R IC A L FEATURES Com piled and edited by Scott Murray, Oxford U niversity Press, in association with the Australian Film Commission and Cinema Papers, Melbourne, 1993, 426pp, S39.95

because they have at their centre a painter and As this long-awaited ‘sequel’ to

an architect. This points to a m ajor limitation of the study.

Andrew Pike and Ross C ooper’s

The question about what constitutes a work of

pioneering work, Australian Film

art, and who are the artists, is not up for contes­

1900-1977: A Guide to Feature Film Produc­

LONG S H O TS TO FAVO U R ITES:

tation. The param eters, in fact, are fairly nar­

tion, was researched and edited by the editor of

rowly defined. As W alker says,

this magazine, a review in these pages was felt

A U S TR A LIA N CIN EM A SUCCESSES IN TH E 90S

to be inappropriate.

M ary Anne Reid, Australian Film Com m is­

For the purpose of this text, ‘artists’ will be defined as those recognised as such by the art world. These individuals have generally been trained at art schools (film and video depart­ ments are to be found in a number of colleges), have created paintings and sculptures as well as films, have exhibited in art galleries, and museums, and have been reviewed in the art press, [p. 161)

Let it just be said, the book, which is being demand, covers every Australian feature to be theatrically released in 1978-92. Each film has a page devoted to it, listing all the major credits, recorded from the screen, with at least one still and a 300-500 word analysis by one of the 50-odd leading Australian writers on film. There is also an Appendix on all features made during the period

Writers, actors and musicians obviously don’t

sion, Sydney, 1993, 111 pp., pb, rrp $14.95

reprinted (with some minorcorrections) due to the

but not released theatrically.

Clearly-written case study of three recent A us­ tralian successes: Proof, S trictly Ballroom and R om per Stomper. Em phasis is on the workings of the marketing, distribution and exhibition side of the business. To be reviewed in a fo rth ­ coming issue.

TH E M ACGUFFIN NEW SLETTER OF TH E FILM /ALFRED H ITC H C O C K SPECIAL IN TER EST GROUP

count. Neither do film directors, sound designers, production designers, directors of photography,

Edited by Ken Mogg, East M elbourne, 4

art directors, costume designers, gaffers, etc. This unnecessarily limits the scope of the

Books Received

issues p er year, $4 individual copies; $14

study. As Umberto Eco says in In Travels in

Compiled b y Raffaele Caputo

annual subscription.

Hyperreality.

The M acGuffin is far more than a neatly com ­

Once upon a time there were the mass media and they were wicked, of course and there was a guilty party. Then there were the virtuous voices that accused the criminals. And Art (ah, what

FILMS BY GENRE 775 C A TEG O R IES, STYLES, TRENDS A N D M O V EM EN TS DEFINED W ITH A FILM O G R A P H Y FOR EACH

piled mass of current news items. It’s tw enty or more pages per edition is packed with film and book reviews, correspondence, information, list­ ings, and at least one lengthy, scholarly article

luck!) offered alternatives for those who were not prisoners of the mass media. Well, it’s all over. We have to start again from the beginning, asking one another what’s going on. [p. 150]

pp., hb, rrp $45

A rt & A rtists on Screen is not the end of this

Basically an enormous list of film categories.

such diverse film com m entators as M ovie-m o­

debate. The range of its study is so limited, and

Each entry is followed by a brief description-

gul Charles Barr, Adrian Martin and the film

it’s so out of sync with our fundam entally-

cum -definition of genres, sub-genres and so

critic for The Australian, Evan W illiam s.

Daniel Lopez, M cFarland & Company, Jefferson-N orth Carolina-London, 1993, 495

- all on Alfred Hitchcock, his career and films. It is an intriguing blend of H itchcock fandom and scholarship. Copy is mostly supplied by Mogg, though contributors of late have included

decentred cultures, that it’s barely even a be­

on. Where applicable, synonymous or related

H itchcock-specific m aterial is a priority, yet

g in nin g. Today, from the d eve lo p m e n t of

term s are included. Also included is a selection

items of general interest are also welcome.

discursive ideologies to sampling in contem po­

of representative titles for each entry. Aside

Recent editions published a review of Jane

rary music, from interactive m ultim edia produc­

from being a handy reference guide, it is difficult

C am pion’s The Piano by Freda Frieberg and a

tions, to global exhibiting and publishing on

to know what purpose this book serves.

review of the 1993 Cannes Film Festival.

62 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

97/98

Mogg puts together a breathless, fact-filled,

th e m o s t s ig n ific a n t d e v e lo p m e n ts a n d th e re b y

lished film scripts. It includes cast and crew

com m ent-and-critique style publication that

g iv e s o m e kin d o f c o n te x t to th e fin a l s e c tio n -

crdeits, notes on extra dialogue, glossary of

certainly redefines the concept of a newsletter.

m y c h o ic e of th e b e s t 1 0 0 film s o f th e first 1 0 0

Maori terms, and excerpts from the press kit

y e a r s [...]

compiled by Miro Bilborough.

TH E FILM S OF VIN CEN TE MINNELLI

C o n c e rn in g th a t list th e r e is o n e th in g of w h ic h I a m q u ite s u re : y o u w ill no t a g re e w ith it.

James Naremore, Cam bridge U niversity Press,

O h , y e s , y o u w ill a g r e e w ith s o m e o f it; th e r e a re

New York, 1993, 202 pp., pb, rrp $27.50

film s in c lu d e d th a t w o u ld u n d o u b te d ly a p p e a r on e v e r y b o d y ’s list b ut e q u a lly th e r e a r e s e v e ra l,

To be reviewed in a forthcom ing issue by Tom Ryan.

TO N Y CUR TIS TH E A U TO B IO G R A P H Y

m a y b e m a n y , w h ic h w o u ld no t a p p e a r on a n y b u t m in e . A n d n o t o n ly w ill s o m e of th e in c lu ­

A SIEGAL FILM AN A U TO B IO G R A P H Y Don Siegal, Forward by Clint Eastwood, Faber & Faber, London-Boston, 1993, 500 pp., hb, rrp $45

s io n s u p s e t y o u b u t s o w ill th e o m is s io n s . W h y ,

To be reviewed in a forthcoming issue by R. J.

yo u w ill w o n d e r w a s th is n ot m e n tio n e d ? O r

Thompson.

th is ? O r th is ? O r th a t? A n d th e a n s w e r q u ite

Tony Curtis and Barry Paris, Heinemann,

s im p ly is b e c a u s e it is m y s e le c t io n - n ot y o u rs ,

London, 1993, 352 pp., hb, rrp $34.95

n o r a n y o n e e ls e ’s. [p. xi]

To which, quite simply, the reader should To be reviewed by Rolando Caputo in the next issue.

respond: So why bother reading on? This is

TH E TELEVISION P A ’S H AN D B O O K A vril Rowlands, Focal Press, Great Britain, 2nd edition, 1993, 244 pp., pb, $49.95

cinephelia of the worse kind. It is not an argu­

M O R AN ’S GUIDE TO AU STR ALIA N T V SERIES A lbert Moran, AFTRS, North Ryde, NSW, 1993, 672 pp., pb, rrp $24.95

ment which attempts to convince the reader of

W ORKING IN COM M ERCIALS

the worth of the 100 films selected; instead, the possessive nature of the book (“my selection”)

A COM PLETE SO UR CEB O O K FOR A D U LT A ND CH ILD A C TO R S

offers a power-position that should be uncritically

Elaine Keller Beardsley, Focal Press, Boston­

accepted. Norman’s context for selection is no

London, 1993, 194 pp., pb, rrp $39.95

To be reviewed in a forthcom ing issue by Ken

more than a rudimentary sketch of the first 100

Berryman.

years, which merely allows him to dish out

Like other Focal Press publications, these two

thum bnail evaluations of almost entirely Am eri­

books are geared toward professionals, stu­

100 BEST FILMS OF TH E CENTUR Y

can films. Of all the attempts to cash in on the

dents and potential newcomers of each respec­

centenary of cinema, this is likely to remain one

tive field. Their intention is to develop existing

Barry Norman, Chapman Publishers, London,

of the least convincing.

1993, 276., pb, rrp $24.95 To give an indication of where this book is coming from, it is worthwhile quoting Norman’s preface at some length:

skills by blending theory and practice, and a thorough A-to-Z approach which take into ac­

TH E PIANO Jane Campion, Bloomsbury, London, 1993,

count the changes (technological, economic, etc.) in each area of practice.

153 pp., pb, rrp $19.95 Notes

A ll I a tte m p t to o ffe r is a q u ic k g lid e a c ro s s th e

The script of the 1993 Palme d ’Or winner, dot­

firs t 1 0 0 y e a r s o f w h a t is p o te n tia lly (a n d s o m e ­

ted throughout with a fair selection of stills.

tim e s a c tu a lly ) th e m o s t e x c itin g a rt fo rm o f th e

Bloom bury’s presentation looks impressive, but

tw e n tie th c e n tu ry , m y p u rp o s e b e in g to p ic k o u t

content is no different from many other pub­

1

P au l K e a tin g , 15 N o v e m b e r 1 9 9 3 , introdu cing th e M a b o le g islatio n to F e d e ra l P a rlia m e n t.

2

“S .O .S ”., C o ntinu um , 5 :2 , 1 9 9 2 , pp. 6 -1 4 .

★ T O A D V E R T I S E IN C I N E M A P A P E R S C O N T A C T BAR R Y TELFER ON (0 3 ) 429 5511

CINEMA

PAPERS

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. 63

A u s t r a lia ’ s F irs t F ilm s

f r o m

p a g e

4i

13. The Thrilling Suicide (shot c. Decerpber 1898) A young unmarried woman with a baby is seen by a river. ‘‘She returns again and again to her child, egresses it, and finally throws herself into the w ater, whereupon twP blood-and-fire [Salyation Army] men appear on the scene.” One throws his coat aside and plunges into the w ater to swim to the girl’s aid, while the other runs to get a boat, and between them they save the betrayed girl. See War Cry (Melbourne), 1 July 1 8 9 9 , p. 3. Earliest known reference: South Australian Register (Adelaide), 2 0 December 1 8 98, 14. The Drunken Swell (shot c. December 1898) “A Salyation Army officer who has had his War Cry thrown on the ground, seizes the drunken man dressed in his best clothes, carries him into the [Salvation Army] shelter, and sits on him until he gets sober” . Refer: Rockham pton Bulletin (Queensland), 25 October 1 8 9 9 , pp. 7-8. Earliest known reference: South Australian Register, 2 0 December 1 8 9 8 . 15. Children Working in the Garden, Salvation Army Brisbane Girls’ Home (shot c. December 1898) Further detail unavailable. Earliest known reference: South Austral­ ian Register (Adelaide), 2 0 December 1 8 9 8 .

Above: Film 25: Riverview Boys’ Home Near Brisbane: Boys Diving into the Brisbane River (probably shot June 1899). Note Joe Williams in water at top left. From Perry album of Social Institution photos. Courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. Facing page: Films 26 to 28 were shot at the Collie Estate, Western Australia possibly the earliest films shot in that state (September 1899). Here Booth has his tea poured at “Camp Glory”, while other members of the land-clearing party pose for Perry’s camera. From Perry album of Social Institution photos. Courtesy of George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne.

16. General William Booth in Q uarantine, Western Australia (shot c. 25 February 1 8 9 9 ). A smallpox scare on the ship bringing the Salvation Arm y’s founder

2 2 . General William Booth Boards SS “A rcad ia” at Largs Bay, Sth. Aust. (May 1899)

on his third Australian tour necessitated a week’s quarantine at

Conclusion of General Booth’s third Australian visit, showing “the

W oodm an’s Point near Fremantle. He lived in a small bush hut

General going on board the SS Arcadia surrounded by his officers

during quarantine and could speak to visitors over a wall, probably

and friends, and the Comm andant [Herbert Booth], The scene was

the subject of the film. The General recorded two speeches on w ax

an exceptionally fine one, and as the General passed and raised his

cylinders during this visit. Earliest known reference to film: Port

hat to the crowd around the ship there was an enthusiastic burst of

Fairy Gazette, 2 7 February 1 900.

applause.” (Refer: Albury Daily News, 6 O ctober 1 8 9 9 ; Port Fairy

17. W alhalla, Victoria: N orth Long Tunnel W ood Shoot in Operation

Gazette, 2 November 190P ; War Cry (M elbourne), 12 August

(shot 28 February 1899)

1 8 9 9 , p. 10.) Earliest known reference: War Cry, 2 0 M ay 1 8 9 9 , p.

Taken by Perry, assisted by Rumble and Dutton- Reference is

10.

ambiguous; may have only been a “still” photograph. Refer: Walhalla C hronicle, 3 M arch 1899. 18. Bendigo, Victoria: Pall Mall street scene (shot 2 7 M arch 1 8 99).

2 3 . SS “A rcadia” Leaving Australia (M ay 1 8 9 9 ). Shpt by Perry. Showed Com m andant Herbert Booth on the pier at Largs Bay, South Australia, leading the Salvation Army in the hymn

Shot by Perry and assistant Rumble, during a run of film exhibi­

“ God Be NCith You Till W e M eet Again” as the Arcadia, returning

tions. Earliest known reference: Bendigo A dvertiser, 2 7 M arch

his father to England, left the wharf and sailed off. Earliest known

1 899.

reference: War Cry, 2 0 May 1 8 9 9 , p. 10.

19. General William Booth Visiting Bayswater Boys’ Home, Vic (shot

2 4 . Bayswater Boys’ H om e, V ictoria: Cows Being Paraded in for

21 April 1899)

Milking (June 1 899?)

Shot by Perry with Williams’ assistance. “While the boys and girls

M ay have been taken as early as Easter, 1 8 9 8 . South Australian

[from Pakenham, Brunswick and Bayswater] were drawn up in line,

Register, 2 5 July 1 8 9 9 , p. 6, states “the animals were numberless as

on the lawn, the General passed in and out between them, shaking

they marched past, all plump, well-conditioned kine, with not an

hands with their officers, and, now and again, waving his hat, while

outward sign of disease” . Earliest known reference: War Cry

a kinematographe film was exposed.” Earliest known reference:

(M elbourne), 1 July 1 8 9 9 , p. 3.

War Cry (Melbourne), 29 April 1 8 9 9 , p. 10. 2 0 . General William Booth at Riverview Boys’ H om e, Queensland (14

2 5 . Riverview Boys’ Home N ear Brisbane: Boys Diving into the Bris­ bane River (probably shot June 18 9 9 )

April 1899?)

Naked boys diving from a log into the Brisbane River. Stills taken

Doubtful attribution - description in Melbourne A rgus is suspi­

before and after this dive are held in the Perry Album of Social

ciously like the preceding item: i.e., “the elderly General is depicted

Institution photos, Salvation Army Archives, M elbourne. One is

being given three cheers by the boys of the home, to which the

reproduced in War Cry, 17 June 1 8 9 9 , p. 3. Earliest known

General responds by waving his h at.” If the locale has been

reference to film: Brisbane Courier, 18 July 1 8 9 9 , p. 6.

mistakenly reported, the film is almost certainly the one taken at Bayswater. Earliest known reference: Argus (M elbourne), 4 July 1 899.

2 6 . Collie Estate, W estern Australia: H erbert B o oth ’s Party Fording a Stream (probably shot September 18 9 9 ) Shot by Joe Perry at the newly-acquired estate later used for an Army

2 1 . Burning the M artyr (April 1899?)

Boys’ Home. Probably taken at R ose’s Ford: “The w ater was up to

Possibly an early segment incorporated into Herbert Booth’s lec­

the bellies of the horses. It is a dangerous spot. ’Twas here two years

ture, Soldiers o f the Cross, or could be an imported film. First shown

ago that Brigadier Saunders had to jump in to help save the buggy

at Collingwood Salvation Army Hall, 9 -1 0 April 1 8 9 9 . Earliest

and horses.” Refer: War Cry, 16 September 1 8 9 9 , p. 7. Earliest

known reference: War Cry (Melbourne), 15 April 1 8 9 9 , p. 10.

known reference: War Cry, 23 September 1 8 9 9 , p. 7.

64 • C I N E M A

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27. Collie Estate, W estern Australia: Herbert Booth Felling the First Tree (probably shot September 1899) Shot by Joe Perry at “ Camp G lory” , where the party included H er­ bert Booth, Joe Perry, Brigadier Saunders, Adjutant Suttor, Captain Arnott, Staff-Captain McM illan and their bush guide, Mr Pollard. Earliest known reference: War Cry, 23 September 1 8 9 9 , p. 7. 28. Collie Estate, Western Australia: Herbert Booth Burning Blackboy Trees (probably shot September 1899)

South Africa, and shown at a Melbourne Town Hall patriotic concert the same evening. “The film itself is 100 feet long and shows first the Governor [Lord Brassey] and his carriage, then a splendid panoramic portrait gallery of the members of the Contingent, with Colonel Price at their head, after which followed the veterans of their Field Artillery with their guns.” This was the first filiti commissioned from Perry by an external agency. The First Contin­ gent’s departure had been filmed in 18 9 9 by Stephen Boncf. See War

First land clearing party. Set of stills of the party at work survives

Cry, 2 7 January 1 9 0 0 , p. 7. Earliest known reference to film:

in Perry’s àlbum of Social Institution photos, Salvation Army

Australasian Photographic Review, 2 2 Jartuary 1 9 0 0 , pp. 2 9 -3 0 .

Archives', Melbourne. Refer: War Cry,

2 7 January 1 9 0 0 , p. 5.

Earliest knowri reference: War Cry, ¿ 3 September 1 8 9 9 , p. 7, 29. Slum Home Scene (September 1899?)

33. Second Victorian (Boer W ar) Contingent Parading at Flemington Showgrounds (shot 13 Jan. 1900?) Shot by Perry and Robert Sandali, presumably on ernbarkation day.

“Three [Salvation Army} sisters enter a slum, and in a few minutes

Writing to Salvation Army historian Col. Percival Dale on 4

make it neat and comfortable for the inmates.” Refer: Rockhampton

October 1 9 5 1 , Robert Sandali récalled, “I went with Perry out to the

Bulletin, 25 October 1 8 9 9 , pp. 7 -8 ; Earliest known reference: Bendigo

racecourse where they carnped, to’ok the film at 4 o ’clock and

Advertiser, 26 September 1899. 3Ó. Christmas Salvation Encampment at Brighton (Melbourne) (De­ cent ber 1899) Shot by Joe Pèrry at the open air encampment at Brighton Beach, where a circus tent accom modating 4 ,0 0 0 was erected for services in “Siriimonds Paddock” near Brighton Pier. Commandant Booth

handed it in for showing in the Melbourne Town Hall just after 8 o’clock. That was some going in those days! ” The parade was given before the Governor, Lord Brassey. Earliest known reference: Ovens and Murray Advertiser (Beechworth, Victoria), 19 May 1900. 34. Second Victorian (Boer W àrj Goritirtgent Boarding SS ‘Euryalus’,

led most services. Refer: War Cry (Melbourne), 6 January 1 9 0 0 , p.

Port Melbourne (shot 13 January 1900)

9; Port Fairy Gazette, 2 November 1 900. Earliest known reference:

Probably shot by Perry, although it’s remotely possible that the film

War Cry, 2 7 January 1 9 0 0 , p. 9.

may have been shot by Stephen Bond. Earliest known reference:

31. Brigadier Brunirteli Léadirig à Salvation Army Open-Air Meeting (December 1899?) Further detail unavailable, but the date suggests that the film

Ovens and Murray Advertiser (Beechworth), 19 May 19 0 0 . 35. Bayswater Boys Harvesting (June or December 1899) Taken at Bayswater Boys’ Home, possibly concurrerttly with a

featured part of the Brighton Encampment activities of Christmas

“still” photo published in the War Cry (Melbourne), 17 June 1 8 9 9 ,

1899. Earliest known reference: War Cry, 2 7 January 1 9 0 0 , p. 5.

p. 3y showing thre boys Stookingeorn. Earliest known reference: Port

Note: Passion Play Films, the life of Christ in 13 parts, were first

Fairy Gazette, 2 7 February 1900.

exhibited at the Salvation Arm y’s Collirtgwood Corps on 30 Decem­

36/ Bushman’s (Boer W ar) Contingent Crossing Princes Bridge, Mélb.

ber 1 899. Formerly assumed to be Limelight Department produc­

(10 March 1900)

tions, the lack of any evidence for their local production, and the

Refer- Kyneton Guardian, 3 May 1 9 0 0 . Earliest known reference:

close match of a list of its 13 parts to the Lumière company’s La Vie

Ballarat Courier, 2 4 April 1900.

et la Passion de Jesus-Christ (18 9 8 ) indicate foreign origins. The segments Christ E ntering Jerusalem and The Crucifixion were later used as the opening illustrations of Herbert Booth’s lecture Soldiers o f the Cross (1 9 0 0 ). Refer: War Cry (Melbourne), 13 January 1 9 0 0 , p. 4; 2 7 January 1 9 0 0 , p. 7; 18 August 1 9 0 0 , p. 9. For information on the Passion Play Films see John Barnes’ Filming the Boer War, Bishopsgate Press, London, 1 9 9 2 , pp. 1 2 7 -1 3 3 . 32. Second Victorian (Boer W ar) Contingent Marching Down Collins Street, Melb. (shot 13 January 1900) Shot by Perry at 3pm on the day of the Contingent’s departure for

37. Horses and Men (for the Boer W ar) at Camp (M arch 1900?) Probably taken at Langwarrin, just outside Melbourne on the Mornington Peninsula. A film answering this description was recalled as having been shot by Stephen Bond (refer Everyones, 13 June 1 9 2 3 , p. 38), so it may not be a Limelight Department production, though it was exhibited by them. Earliest known reference: Ballarat Courier, 23 April 1 9 00. 38. C am eron’s Scouts (Boer W ar). Shown by James Dutton ort a Limelight Department tour. May be a film of Tasmariiari Contingent under Captain Cameron, but more likely an imported British filtri of Camerort Highlanders. Earliest known reference: Ballarat Courier, 23 April 1900. 39. Departure of Victorian Naval Contingent for Boxer Rebellion (30 July 1900). The making of this film by Perry was recalled by his son Reg in Eric Reade’s The Australian Screen , Lansdowne Press, Melbourne, 1975, but no contemporary evidence for its production can be found, and the event may have been mistaken for the shooting of the Second Boer W ar Contingent departure, which sounds similar: “It showed the Lieut. Governor of Victoria, Sir John Madden, reviewing the sailors. Taken from the steps of the Treasury Building at the top of Collins Street, it brilliantly captured the impressive significance of the occa­ sion. The film also covered the march along City Road, South Melbourne, and the Contingent’s farewell on the pier” (p. 19). Although no contemporary reviews or advertisements for this film can be found, exhibitor Millard Johnson exhibited a film called The Naval Brigade O ff to China on 10 January 1902 in Ballarat (daybill privately held). CINEMA

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N E X T IS S U E

Continuing our study of the Salvation Army Limelight Department, we investigate the films produced for Herbert Booth’s lecture, Soldiers of the Cross (1900). Was it a marvel or a myth? ACKNOW LEDGEM ENTS

My deepest thanks must go to the Division of Humanities at Griffith University (Brisbane) and to Pat Laughren in particular for funding, and otherwise supporting, this project. The information presented here would have been impossible to obtain without the constant support of George Ellis, Territorial Archi­ vist of the Salvation Army in Melbourne, who supplied film data from his files over a period of six years. Mr David Morris of the Salvation Army in Adelaide also provided his constant support. Clive Sowry (Wellington, New Zealand) provided access to the Salvation Army’s New Zealand data, essential to the investigation of this Australasian enterprise. This article owes a great deal to his final half­ hour phone call! Ken Berryman and Meg Labrum of the National Film 8c Sound Archive gave the project its initial push with the support of their documentation. Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

War Cry (Melbourne), 20 April 1991, p. 3 They processed, for instance, Baldwin Spencer’s Aboriginal films. Information from George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. Ibid. Ibid. William Booth, In D arkest England and the Way O ut, Salvation Army, London, 1890. Information from George Ellis, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. See ref. 6, p. 243. Full Salvation (Melbourne), 1 June 1892, pp. 189-92; War Cry (Melbourne), 12 September 1891, p. 16. Information from Perry’s staff record card, held by Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. Curiously, the Australian Dictionary o f Biography gives 1863 as the birth date. Full Salvation (Melbourne), 1 September 1894, pp. 290-5; “A Limelighter’s Experiences”. Ibid, p .293. War Cry (Melbourne), 7 February 1891, p. 5; Full Salvation, 1 September 1894, p. 293. Full Salvation, 1 September 1894, p. 294. Ibid, also War Cry (Melbourne), 7 February 1891, p. 5. War Cry (Melbourne), 7 February 1891, p. 5; also Perry’s staff record card, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. See ref. 14. Ibid. Ibid. War Cry (Melbourne), 25 December 1891, p. 8; 16 January 1892, p. 9. J. Perry: staff record card, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. Full Salvation, 1 June 1892, pp. 189-192; War Cry (Brisbane), 7 October 1893, p. 7. Ovens & Murray Advertiser (Beechworth, Victoria), 7 November 1896, advertises Perry’s slide set of “Life on the Coolgardie Goldfields”. Colin Gordon, By Gaslight in Winter, Elm Tree Books, London, 1980, p. 21. Dr. Luigi Sassi, L e Proiezioni, Hoepli, Milano, 1897, pp. 157-73. See ref. 24, p. 22. See ref. 24, p. 50; Full Salvation, 1 September 1894, p. 295. Full Salvation, 1 September 1894, p. 295; War Cry (London), 20 October 1894, p. 14. J. Perry: staff record card, Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. Ibid. Full Salvation, 1 September 1894, p. 295. War Cry (New Zealand), 11 January 1896: “The Limelight Crusade”. War Cry (New Zealand), 9 May 1896: “Disastrous Fire at Marton”. War Cry (Melbourne), 25 July 1896 p. 3: “Limelight in Sydney”. Argus (Melbourne), 16 March 1895: “Amusements - The Kinetoscope”. War Cry (Melbourne), 18 August 1900, p. 9. The Victory, September 1901, p. 440: “Science and Salvation”. Graham Shirley and Brian Adams, Australian Cinema, Angus & Robertson with Currency Press, Sydney, 1983, p. 11.

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39 War Cry (Melbourne), 28 November 1896, p. 6: “The Limelight in the North” reports on Perry’s absence in New South Wales since July 1896. 40 Australian Photographic Journal, 20 February 1897, p. 47: “Novelties and Inventions”. 41 T he Scientific Australian, 20 March 1897, p. 29. 42 War Cry (Melbourne), 20 February 1897, p. 4 43 War Cry (Melbourne), 21 August 1897, p. 4. 44 Australasian P hotographic Review , 21 July 1897. 45 War Cry (Melbourne), 27 March 1897, p. 7: “The Cinematographe - The Commandant Pushes it Off!” 46 Ibid. 47 The O fficer (London), March 1897, p. 82; War Cry (London), 26 December 1903, p. 9; and F. Hayter Gox, He Was There, Salvationist Publishing and Supplies, London, 1949, pp. 67-71. The oldest of Howse’s surviving films was featured in the Hugh Baddeley documentary G o d ’s Soldier (1955). It shows a Salvation Army open-air meeting in Whitechapel Road, London, late in 1903. 48 War Cry (Melbourne), 19 May 1900, p. 8; 7 July 1900, p. 4; 6 April 1901, p. 4; 18 May 1901, p. 4. 49 G o o d News, November 1989, pp. 10-12; “The Salvation Army: A Media Pioneer”. 50 War Cry (Melbourne), 25 June 1904, p. 7. 51 Films shot by Perry at the London International Salvation Army Congress of 1904 are featured in the Hugh Baddeley documentary G o d ’s Soldier (1955). 52 War Cry (Melbourne), 27 March 1897, p. 7; 1 May 1897, p. 8. 53 T he Victory (Melbourne), June 1897, p. 236. 54 Ibid, July 1897, p .2 7 7 . 55 War Cry (Melbourne), 21 August 1897, p. 8. 56 Ibid., 9 October 1897, p. 4. 57 War Cry (Brisbane), 15 January 1898, p. 7: “Editorial Mems”. 58 War Cry (Melbourne) 19 February 1898, p. 5; T he Victory, February 1898, p. 77. 59 War Cry (Melbourne) 19 February 1898, p. 5. 60 The Victory, August 1898, pp. 300-304: “The Triple Alliance”. 61 Australasian P hotographic Review, 21 January 1899, p. 3. 62 War Cry (Melbourne), 16 April 1898, pp. 5, 8; Herbert Booth: Typescript “Brief”, to London Headquarters, 1899: “Limelight Dept.” 63 Herbert Booth: Typescript “Brief”, 1899, to London Headquarters. Held by Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. 64 Ibid. 65 Her lecture was called “In The Slums of the Great Cities”, War Cry, 24 June 1899, p. 3. 66 John Barnes, The Beginnings o f the Cinema in England, David & Charles, Newton Abbot, England, 1976, p. 81 et seq. 67 The Warwick machines appear to have been purchased with profits from their film of The Inauguration o f the Australian Com m onw ealth (January 1901). The earliest mention of the “1901 Anglo-American (Warwick) Bioscope” is given in War Cry (Melbourne), 13 July 1901, p. 8: “Limelight Up To Date”. 68 War Cry (Brisbane), 29 January 1898, p. 6. 69 War Cry (Melbourne) 16 April 1898, p. 8; Argus (Melbourne) 29 March 1898. 70 War Cry (Melbourne), 23 July 1898, p. 7: “Sydney’s Social Triumph”. 71 Queensland Times (Ipswich), 31 October 1899: “Social Salvation”. 72 Herbert Booth, The Austral Underworld (pamphlet), Salvation Army, Melbourne, 1900. Copy held by Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne. 73 See ref. 24, p. 52. 74 Jacob A. Riis, H ow The Other H a lf Lives, Dover Books, New York, 1971. 75 The Victory (Melbourne), August 1898, pp. 300-304: “The Triple Alli­ ance”. 76 Australasian P hotographic Review , 21 January 1899, p. 2, mentions “street scenes”. 77 The Victory, February 1900, p. 79. 78 Australasian P hotographic Review , 22 January 1900, pp. 29-30. 79 Australasian P hotographic Review , 23 January 1901, p. 25, gives the shot list of that film, Inauguration o f the Australian C om m onw ealth, comprising about 2,000 feet or 1/2 hour of film. It was restored and released on theNFSA video Federation Films (1991). The subsequent coverage of the R oyal Visit to N ew Z ealand occupied 3,300 feet of film, almost an hour at the slow projection speed of June 1901. 80 Australasian P hotographic Review , 21 January 1899, pp. 2-3. 81 G eelong Advertiser, 11 October 1898, advertises “a dozen” films in Booth’s lecture; Barrier Miner, 15 October 1898, p. 3, advertises 12 films; H awthorn Citizen, 1 July 1899, advertises 15 films.

B rie fly

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3

producers and directors with whom they work. Filmmakers with remarkable debut works often find international acclaim comes at the expense of earning a living. Stipends will provide a secure

Southern Star Film Sales will be the interna­

clarify with producers what constitutes “dis­

financial base from which to develop their next

tional sales agent for Angel Baby and REP is the Australian distributor.

counting” before projects are submitted to the Board for financing approval.

projects.

The other two films in the Fourth Film Fund are Country Life and Spider & Rose.

Morris also advised that the scheme will oper­ ate for at least three years so that an effective

McMullan said that further strategies are cur­ rently being developed to ensure the government’s

review of its operation can be undertaken. He

additional funding is used in the most effective manner possible: “The result will be better film and

New Director for FFC

emphasized that the purpose of the scheme was a

television scripts - and more of them - as produc­

The former Minister for the Arts and Administrative

reward for commercial successes and also noted

ers are better equipped to develop film projects

Services, Bob McMullan, announced in November

that the proposal, in principal, had received unani­

1993 the appointment of Roger Simpson as a

mous endorsement from the industry.

and writers will receive the support they require to bring their scripts to fruition.”

directortothe Board of the Australian Film Finance Corporation (FFC).

No 1994 Film Fund

Simpson is currently a Board member of Film Victoria and served for many years on the National Council of the Australian Writers Guild. McMullan said, “Mr Simpson will bring a great deal of talent and experience as a successful film and television scriptwriter to the FFC.” The Minister also paid tribute to the outgoing director, Anne Deveson, a well-known journalist and documentary maker. McMullan: “Ms Deveson’s breadth of experience has been great value to the FFC Board over the last three years.” The Minister also announced the reappoint­ ment of Dr Kerry Schott and Ted Thomas as directors and Dr Patricia Edgar as deputy chair of the FFC Board. McMullan: “The reappointment of Dr Edgar, MrThomasand DrSchott will ensure the continuation of a strong and professional relation­ ship between the FFC and the local film industry.” All appointments are for a period of two years.

Producer revenue entitlements John Morris announced that the FFC has intro­ duced a scheme of revenue entitlements for pro­

John Morris announced on 1 February 1994 that the FFC would not have a Film Fund in 1994. He stated that the Board of the FFC decided to sus­ pend the Fund in light of the FFC’s recently-adopted guidelines which have confirmed financing flexibil­ ity for lower-budgeted feature films of $3.5 million and less. The Board also took into account the

The British film industry is rallying around the rebirth of one of its best-loved production houses, Ealing Studios, which in its heyday was a flagship

The FFC will continue to monitor the financing of projects in the medium- to low-budget area this year. At the same time, the FFC will consult with the industry and the development agencies on their suggestions for the funding of high-risk, lowbudget feature films.

• • • • •

Producer Support and Script Development Programmes unveiled In recognition of the critical role played by writers and producers in Australia in Australia’s film indus­ try, the federal government has provided an extra $3.5 million under its Distinctly Australian initia­ tive to the Australian Film Commission for pro­ ducer support and script developm ent pro­ grammes.

Under the scheme, a producer will be entitled to

The former Minister for the Arts and Adminis­

a 10% share of all revenues to which the FFC would otherwise be entitled upon recoupment by the FFC of a percentage of its investment in the relevant

trative Services, Bob McMullan, released details

project. That percentage will differ depending on the production category. For feature films, the

and encourage established film producers in a

threshold will be when the FFC has recouped 35%

of the first four support programmes. The Producer Assistance Scheme will support way which gives them greater responsibility and enhanced flexibility in the development process.

of its investment; for television drama (adult mini­

In the first year of the scheme, $25,000 loans will

series, children’s mini-series and tele-features),

be provided to five producers with successful track records in feature film and/or television

45% and for documentaries, 20%. Morris also indicated that the other features of the scheme will be: 1. Accelerated Profit The revenue entitlement will be considered as an advance against the producer’s profit share in all projects. Accordingly, once the total budget of a project has been recouped and, prior to the producer sharing in actual profits,

Revived Ealing Studios Bob Diracca and Teresa Lombardi of News Diary write:

and second-time directors the FFC has been able to support through its regular financing processes during the past twelve months. It expects this process to continue.

current financial year. Morris said that, after consultation with SPAA

the FFC Board approved a scheme at its meeting on 17 November 1993.

• • • • •

considerable number of features directed by first-

ducers starting with all projects approved in the

(Screen Producers Association of Australia) and ASDA (Australian Screen Directors Association),

Five hundred thousand dollars will be available for this financial year and an additional $1 million each year for the next three years.

drama. The Producers’ Overhead and Expense Sup­ port Scheme will target those newer producers who have responsibility for taking the industry into the next century. Assistance with overhead costs will be provided to give younger producers the security of theiroffice rent being covered, enabling them to consolidate an effective working base.

of the industry producing some of the world’s best loved movies such as A Run for Your Money (1949), Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949), Pass­ port to Pimlico (1949) and Whisky Galore (1949). The BBRK Group, a property and scenery company, recently bought the site of the studio from the BBC, which had used it for many years to produce television programmes. BBRK pledged to rekindle its film studio status. The new Ealing Studio Productions is seeking capital with the aim of producing six feature films per year. Alan Latham, the Managing Director of the new company, said: “We’re talking a complete range of films. We’re talking about films from documentary dramas through to major films but the main point is quality films.” The venture has the support of the industry and of such actors as Ian Richardson and Alan Bates, whom, says Latham, “all like the location and who want to work at Ealing Studios”. Another barracker is Daniel Day-Lewis, the grandson of Sir Michael, who was the executive in charge of all productions at Ealing Stu­ dios throughout the 1940s and ’50s. The British Film Commission is also behind the new studio. The aim of the new studio is not to try and recapture a bygone era. Latham: What we have to do is try and ensure that what­ ever we do is in the best tradition of Ealing Studios. Ealing Studios is in the hearts of a lot of people. We need to be aware of our responsibility to the history of Ealing Studios, but we cannot rely on past glories for our future success. What we have to aim for is quality. Martin Scorsese, in a talk at a British Academy Film and Theatre Awards (BAFTA) gathering, spoke affectionately about Ealing which, he said, was an inspiration to him in his filmmaking.

the revenue entitlement will need to be repaid

The Script and Story Editing Employment At­

Latham is looking to the future with enthusiasm:

to the FFC. 2. The revenue entitlement shall not apply to Film

tachment Scheme will assist in the professional

I think the love and support we have received from the industry, from the public and from the local community, show that there is a great desire and love of the studio and a desire to see it be successful. We must try and use that support to recreate its success. •

Fund projects. In addition, where the FFC ef­

development of script and story editors by funding attachments for up-and-coming editors with estab­

fectively “discounts” a pre-sale, that pre-sale

lished producers and production houses. A

will be ignored for the purposes of calculating

stronger base of script and story editors will de­ liver benefits to both the projects and the writers,

revenue to the FFC. Investment managers will

CINEMA

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r

PRODUCTION

BROUGHT

r

7 ■ —

;— :

PERMANENT TRUSTEES

T O Y O U BY

------------------ -----:-------------------------- ----- ;— .

FFC F U N D I N G - • --------- :... NOVEMBER,

-

FEATURES GOODNIGHT IRENE (90 niins) Arënâfilrri. Producer: John Maynard. Director: Gérard Lee. Scriptwriter: Gerard Lee. Sixteen-year-old Mick cross-dresses and joins an ali-girl band. He falls in love with band mem­ ber Angela who is flirting with lesbianism. She’s hot for Mick, riot just because he’s cute and talënted but, being a woman, he’s honest.

TELEVISION DRAMA CODY (3 x 90 min télè-featurës) Southern Star/Xanadu. Executive producer: Errol Sullivan. Producers: Sandra Levy, John Edwards. Directors: Ken Cam eron, Paul Harmon, Chris Thomson. Scriptwriters: Christopher Lee, Chris Thomson, îh ré è stôriés about Cody, a larrikin cop.

DOCUMENTARIES ON THE ROAD WITH SNOW WHITE & THÉ SEVEN DWARFS (55 mins) Catherine South and Stewart Carter. Producers: Catherine South, Stewart Carter. Directors: Catherine South, Stewart Carter. On the road with a pantomime troupe which has been staging Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs around Australia for 30 years. The cameras will focus on the show's real-life dwarfs and the reality behind the fairytale. WORLD MUSIC FROM THE BANANA BELT (55 mins) Eclectic Films. Producers: Hugh Rule, Bill Leim bach. Director: Bill Leim bach. Scriptwriter: Bill Leimbach. Èxploration of World Music from tropical cultures around the globe. BRISBANE DREAMING (50 mins) Miajiri Productions. Executive pro­ ducer: Chris Adams. Producer: Daryl Sparkes. Director: Garry Gibson. The history of Aboriginal survival around what is now Brisbane. HEAVEN’S BREATH (4 x 60 mins) Full Circle Productions/Latent Image Productions. Executive producer: Ichiro Tagaw a. Producers: Stuart Quin, Stevé Amezdroz. Scriptwriters: Lyall Watson, Stuart Quin. Natural history of the wind, based on Lyall Watson’s best-selling book Heaven’s Breath.

DECEMBER

7

DECISIONS '

— --------- -

TELEVISION DRAMA SHIP TO SHORE II (26 x 24 mins) Bariori Films. Executive pro­ ducer: Paul Barron. Producer: Barbi Taylor. Di­ rectors: Geoffrey Notfage and others to be an­ nounced. Scriptwriters: John Rapsey, David Phillips, Peter Kinloch, Sheila Sibley, Patrick Edgeworth, Jon Stephens, Everett de Roche. Second series about the gang on Circe Island.

DOCUMENTARIES UNDERWATER DISCOVERIES II (4 x 52 mins) Extra Dimension Productions. Executive producer: Michael Caulfield. Produc­ ers: Andrew Wight, Liz Wight. Director: Liz Wight. Scriptwriters: Andrew Wight, Liz Wight, Michael Caulfield. Divers Andrew and Liz Wight take us on further adventures to Papua New Guinea, Ningaloo Reef in Western Australia and Cuba. WHAT’S SO FUNNY? (55 mins) Video Projects. Producer: Tony Wright. Associate producer: MaryAnne Carroll. Direc­ tor: Steve Westh. Scriptwriter: Steve Westh. Vietnamese comic Hung Le is one of the ethnic comedians profiled in this look at “wog” humour as a reflection of multicultural Australia. BETWEEN TWO WORLDS (55 mins) Jotz Productions. Producer: Tom Zubrycki. Director: Tom Zubrycki. Scriptwriter: Tom Zubrycki. Follows a group of young people of non-English-speaking backgrounds from the western suburbs of Sydney as they leave high school and move into society. CREATIVE SPIRITS III (3 x 60 mins) Don Featherstone Productions. Producer: Don Featherstone. Directors: Belinda Chayko, Geoff Bennett, Don Featherstone. Scriptwriters: Belinda Chayko. Geoff Bennett, Don Featherstone. A trilogy looking at the work of playwright David Williamson, choreographer Meryl Tankard and painter Jeffrey Smart. WAR OF DISTANCE (55 mins) Oracle Pictures and The Notion Pic­ ture Company. Executive producers: Max Lloyd, Gregory Swanborough. Producers: Robert Reynolds, Victor Gentile. Director: Megan Simpson. Scriptwriter: Megan Simpson. A study of the subtle and long-term effects of World War II on the lives of women.

JANUARY

FEATURES

DOCUMENTARIES HOTEL SORRENTO (110 mins) Bayside Pictures. Producers: Richard Franklin, Helen Watts. Director: Richard Franklin. Scriptwriters: Richard Franklin, Peter Fitzpatrick. Based on the award winning play by Hannie Rayson. Three sisters are reunited by the disap­ pearance of their father. MUSHROOMS (95 mins) Rosen Harper Entertainment. Execu­ tive producer: Richard Harper. Producer: Brian Rosen. Director: Alan Madden. Scriptwriter: Alan Madden. Black comedy about two widows in their mid-sixties who have to dispose of a dead body under the nose of their unsuspecting boarder - an elderly police detective.

68 . C I N E M A

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SURVEY

POETRY IN MOTION (55 mins) David Flatman Productions. Producer: David Flatm an. Director: Judith Curran. Scriptwriter: Judith Curran. Documentary look­ ing at a group of young Australian women pre­ paring for the 1994 World Gymnastic Champi­ onships which will be held in Australia. HAROLD (55 mins) OCP Ltd-Flying Carpet Films. Produc­ ers: John Moore. Marion Crooke. Director Steve Thomas. Scriptwriter: Steve Thomas. At a time when few Aborigines broke through social barri­ ers, Harold Blair became the last great Austral­ ian tenor of the concert hall era.

NOTE: Production Survey forms now adhere to â revised format. C in e m a P a p e r s regrets it cannot accèpt information received in a dif­ ferent format, as it does not have the staff to re-process the information. Information is correct and adjudged as of 2/2/94.

FEATURES PRE-PRODUCTION EPSILON Prod, companies Pre-production Production Post-production Principal Credits Director Producers Co-producer Assoc, producer Other Credits Prod, manager Unit manager Compeltion guarantor Special fx photography

Psilon Fandango (Rome) Jan - Mar 1994 Mar 1994 ... ... Mar 1995 Rolf de Heer Domenico Procacci Rolf de Heer Digital Arts Sharon Jackson

Sharon Jackson Charles Kiroff Film Finances Digital Arts Tony Clarke Mike Carroll Sean Caddy Post-prod, supervisor Tania Nehme Sound designer Peter D. Smith Gauge Super 35 Screen ratio 1:2.35 Government Agency Investment Development SAFC Production FFC Marketing Inti, sales agent Intrafilms (Rome) Cast: Ulli Birve (She), Syd Brisbane (The Man). Synopsis: An intergalactic love story about planet earth. GOODNIGHT IRENE Arenafilm Prod, company Principal Credits Director Gerard Lee Producer John Maynard Gerard Lee Scriptwriter 90 mins Length 35mm Gauge FFC Finance Synopsis: Mick, a 16-year-old country boy, cross dresses and joins an all-girl band in town for the local festival. He falls hopelessly in love with band member Agela who is flirting with lesbianism. She’s hot for Mick, not just because he’s cute and talented but being a woman he’s honest. [No further details supplied)

MUSHROOMS Prod, company

RosenHarper Entertainment Producer Brian Rosen Executive producer RichardHarper Director AlanMadden Scriptweriter AlanMadden Synopsis: A romantic black comedy about two widows in their mid-sixties who live above a pawn shop. They become embroiled in a maca­ bre plot to dispose of a dead body under the nose of their unsuspecting boarder - an elderly police detective. TUNNEL VISION Avalon Film Corporation Prod, company Beyond Films Dist. companies Pro Films 14/2/94 ... Pre-production 2173/94 ... Production Principal Credits Clive Fleury Director Phillip Avalon Producer Phillip Bowman Assoc, producër Line producer Phillip Avalon Scriptwriter Clive Fleury Geoffrey Simpson DOP Phil Warner Prod, designer John Scott Editor Othér Credits Script editor Gerard Maguire Prod, manager Brenda Pam Art director Phil Warner Publicity Rea Francis Publicity Length 92 mins Gauge 35 mm Cast: Patsy Kensit. Synopsis: As the clock ticks down, the lives of three people will change dramatically ... don’t look back!

FEATURES PRODUCTION

LUCKY BREAK Prod, companies Generation Films Lewin Pilms Principal Credits Director Ben Lewin Producer Bob Weis Co-producer Judi Lewin Scriptwriter Ben Lewin DOP Vince Monton Sound recordist Gary Wilkins Prod, designer Peta Lawson Costume designer Anna Borghesi Editor Peter Carrodus Composer Paul Grabowsky Planning and Development Casting Liz Mullinar Casting Storyboard artist Eliza Greenhatch Production Crew HOTEL SORRENTO Prod, supervisor Rachel Garnsey Prod, company Bayside Pictures Prod, co-ordinator Lesley Parker Producers RichardFranklin Producer’s asst Sarah Norris Helen Watts Director’s asst Ben Holgate Director RichardFranklin Prod, secretary Jacinta Lomas Scriptwriters RichardFranklin Location manager Chris Odgers Peter Fitzpatrick Unit manager Leigh Ammitzboll Based on play by HannieRayson Unit attach. Robert Hall Synopsis: Three sisters are reuinted at their Unit runner Cameron Stewart seaside family home by the disappearance of Production runner Cameron Stewart their father. Prod, accountant Juanita Parker Accounts assts Clive Young

Insurer Completion guarantor Legal services Travel/Freight Buses/Greenroom Camera Crew Camera operator Focus puller Clapper-loader Camera attach. Camera equipment Key grip Grip 3rd grip Gaffer Best boy 3rd electrics On-set Crew 1st asst director 2nd asst director 1st asst director Continuity Boom operator Make-up Hairdresser Special fx Stunts co-ordinator Safety report Safety officer Still photography Unit publicist Catering Art Department Art director Art dept co-ord. Art dept runner Set dressers Props buyers

Sharon Young Steeves Lumley Film Finances> Barker Gosling Showtravel Mobile Prod. Facilities. Vince Monton Greg Ryani Chris Hobbs; Greg de Marigny■ Samuelsons. John Goldney' Scott Brocate! Peter Stockley Nick Payne■ Anthony Tullochi Chris Shanahani Brendan Campbel I Rob Visser Damien Grant Victoria Sullivan Mark Wasiutak Kirsten Veysey Cheryl Williams Peter Stubbs Mark Hennessy Mark Hennessy Eddie McShortall Jennifer Mitchell Fiona Searson, DDA Masquerade Caterers Two Can Do Victoria Hobday Simone Semen TaoW eis Darryl Mills Denise Goudy Darryl Mills Denise Goudy Chris James

Standby props Wardrobe Wardrobe supervisor Susi Thompsori Standby wardrobe Rachel Nott Wardrobe asst. Louise McCarthy Construction Dept Construct, manager Walter SperI Post-production Stephen Evans Asst editor DFL Sound transfers by Music co-ordinator Mike Grabowsky Soundfirmi Mixed at Laboratory DFL Lab liaison Clive Duncani Kodak Stock Government Agency Investment Production FFC (Anne Darrouzet)i Cast: Gia Carides, Anthony La Paglia Synopsis: Romantic comedy. Writer Sophiei lives in her own fantasies till she meets Eddie. the man of her dreams. What Eddie doesn’l: realize is that what he sees and what he gets are. two different things ... And is Eddie all he seemsi to be?

^

FEATURES POST-PRODUCTION

COUNTRY LIFE Dalton Films, Prod, company UIP Dist. company 2 9 /1 1 /9 3 -2 4 /1 /9 4 Production

Principal Credits Director Michael Blakemore Producer Robin Dalton Line Producer Adienne Read Scriptwriter Michael Blakemore DOP Steve Windon Sound recordist Ben Osmo Editor Nicholas Beauman Costume designer Wendy Chuck Production designer Larry Eastwod Composer Peter Best Planning and Development Casting Alison Barrett Extras casting Helen Salter Production Crew Prod, manager Lynda Wilkinson Prod, co-ordinator Julie Simms Prod, secretary Anne Gilhooley Producer’s secretary Merlyne Jamieson Location manager Phillip Roope Unit manager Bob Graham Unit assts Laurie Pettinari Grayden Le Breton Drivers Grayden Le Breton Andrew Marshall Dave Suttor Tom Read Prod, accountant Marianne Flynn Accounts asst Sandie Morris Completion guarantor Film Finances Camera Crew Camera operator Marc Spicer Focus puller Callum McFarlane Clapper loader Frank Flick Key grip Warren Grieef Grip David Shaw Asst grip Scott Johnson Gaffer Reg Garside Best boys Allan Dunstan Gary Hill On-set Crew 1st asst director Colin Fletcher 2nd asst director James McTeigue 3rd asst director Guy Campbell Continuity Pamela Willis Boom operator Gerry Nucifora 2nd boom operator Michael Taylor Make-up supervisor Lesley Rouvray Make-up David Vawser Make-up asst Nicole Spiro Hair supervisor Lesley Rouvray Hairdresser David Vawser Unit nurse Patsy Buchan Still photography Jim Townley Unit publicist Fiona Searson, DDA Catering Camera Cooks Runner , Stephen Tolz Art Department Asst art director Michelle McGahey Art dept co-ord. Deborah Eastwood Property master Brian Edmonds Art dept runner Richard Hobbs Action props Richard Hobbs Standby props John Osmond Justine Dunn Asst standby props Casual dressers Dimity Huntington Ken Muggleston Armourer Robert Colby Wardrobe Wardrobe supervisor Miranda Brock Kerrt Thompson Standby wardrobe Wardrobe asst Olivia Schmid Animals Graham Ware Wrangler

Asst wranglers Construction Dept Construct, manager Scenic artists

Graham Ware Jnr George Lamb Larry Sandy Bill Undery Michael O'Kane John Styles Donna Brown The Greens Department

Carpenter Set decorator Greens Post-production Editing asst Trish Graham Music consultant Christine Woodruff Rushes courier Midnight Express Laboratory Atlab Lab liaison Ian Russell Government Agency Investment Production FFC Marketing Inti, sales Southern Star Cast: G reta Scacchi. Sam Neill. John Hargreaves. Kerry Fox. Synopsis: Country Lite is the story of European sensibilities colliding in the harsh beauty of the Australian landscape. It deals with a young Eng­ lish woman who comes to live at an Australian country property where her beauty and poise cause turmoil in the household. ENCOUNTERS Prod, company Conventry Films Dist. company Winfalz Inti. Pre-production 1/7/93 - 5/9/93 Production 6 /9 /9 3 -1 1 /1 0 /9 3 Post-production 1 1 /10 /93 -20 /3/9 4 Principal Credits Director Murray Fahey Producer Murray Fahey Scriptwriter Murray Fahey Editor Brian Kavanagh Peter Borosh DOP Sound recordist David Glasser Prod, designer Robin Monkhouse Composer Frank Strangio Production Crew Prod, manager Bernard Purcell Prod, co-ords. Gina Twyble Marina Albert Prod, assistant Carla Buscemi Unit manager Jon Knowles Location manager Gabrielle Sinclair Unit runner Danelle Denny Standby runners Anneka Baughan Malcolm Engledew Casting assts Tanya Bulmer Jo-anne Thomas Completion guarantor Winfalz Investments Insurance FIUA Cinesure Camera Crew Focus puller Geoffrey Downs Toby Brittan Clapper-loader Steadicam operator David Woodward Equipment Samuelson Lemac Adam Good Key grip Asst grips John Reynolds Julian Townley Gaffer Paul Johnstone Best boy Nick De Laine Electrics David Holmes Miles Malson On-set Crew 1st asst director Bernard Purcell

2nd asst director 3rd asst director Continuity Boom operator Make-up Hairdresser Stunts co-ord Safety report Technical advisor Stand-in Catering BBQ wrangler Art Department Art director Special effects Standby props Art dept stills Prod, stills Art dept assts

Serena Hunt Glennen C.C. Fahey Mojgan MacNeil Nicole Lazaroff Jennifer Eady Joe MacLean Grant Page Spike Cherrie Michael Eady Stephen Nicholas Feral Food James Cox Tor Larsen Tim Adlide Chris (Zulu Boy) Darvall Mark Drew John Reynolds Adam S. Campbell Simon Man Geoff Martin Sean O'Riordan

Wardrobe Wardrobe Construction Dept Set construction Prop construction Post-production Post-prod, supervisor

Kirsten Smallbone Jonathan Clouston Richard James

Brain Kavanagh Editing asst Abby McNabney Sound editors Dean Gawen Rex Watts Paul Huntingford Sound mixer Dean Gawen Mixed at Film Soundtrack ADR recordists David White Peter Frost Recorded at Counterpoint Sound Film Soundtrack T ranters Soundage Edge numbering Chris Rowell Oliver Streeton Title design Oxberry Graham Sharpe Laboratory Atlab Lab liaison Denise Wolfson Colour grader Tony Manning Opticals Roger Cowland Negative matcher Karen Psaltis Film stock Kodak Screen ratio 1.1:85 Cast: Kate Raison (Madaline Carr). Martin Sacks (Martin Carr). Martin Vaughan (Harris). Maggie Kirkpatrick (Aunt Helen), Vince Gill (Farmer Evans). John Krummel (Miles Franklin). Synopsis: A suspense thriller in the Hitchcock tradition, about a woman haunted by her past and her search to discover the truth of what happened. MURIEL’S WEDDING Prod, company House & Moorhouse Films Dist. company Village Roadshow Pre-production July - Sept 1993 Production Oct - Dec 1993 Post-production Jan - May 1994 Principal Credits Director Paul J. Hogan Producers Lynda House Jocelyn Moorhouse Assoc, producers Tony Mahood Michael D. Aglion Scriptwriter Paul J. Hogan

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DOP Martin McGrath Sound recordist David Lee Editor Jill Bilcock Prod, designer Patrick Reardon Costume designer Terry Ryan Planning and Development Casting Alison Barrett Extras casting Gabrielle Healy Production Crew Prod, manager Catherine "Tatts” Bishop Prod, co-ordinator Rowena Talacko Prod, secretary Sharon Gerussi Location manager Patricia Blunt Unit manager Simon Hawkins Unit assts Philip Taylor Paul Naylor Shane Naylor Production runner Martin Williams Prod, accountant Jill Steele Moneypenny Services Accounts asst Sandie Morris Insurer Tony Leonard Steeves Lumley Completion guarantor Film Finances Legal services Bryce Menzies Roth Warren Travel co-ordinator Travel Too Camera Crew Camera operator David Williamson Focus puller Darrin Keough Clapper-loader Brett Matthews Camera assistant Sally Gray Key grip Brett McDowell Asst grip John Tate Gaffer David Parkinson Best boy Peter Maloney Electricians Andrew Moore Darryn Fox On-set Crew 1st asst director Tony Mahood 2nd asst director John Martin 3rd asst director Karen Mahood Script supervisor Daphne Paris Boom operator Jack Friedman Make-up supervisor Noriko Watanabe Make-up asst Noreen Wilke Hair supervisor Noriko Watanabe Hairdresser Jan Zeigenbein Hair asst Noreen Wilke Choreographer John O ’Connell Still photography Robert McFarlane Catering Eat & Shoot Through Art Department Art director Hugh Bateup Art dept co-ord Christina Norman Art dept runner Peter Forbes Set dressers Jane Murphy Glen W.Johnson Art dept asst Dianne Bennett Standby props James Cox Wardrobe Wardrobe supervisor Michele Leonard Costume construction ’Mouse’ Standby wardrobe Heather Laurie Wardrobe asst Mandy Sedawie Post-production 1st asst editor Jane Moran 2nd asst editor Cleo Myles Sound transfers by Soundfirm Sound editor Glenn Newnham Musical co-ord. Chris Gough Mixed at Soundfirm Laboratory Cinevex Lab liaison Ian Anderson Film gauge 35mm Screen ratio 1:1.85 Shooting stock Kodak Government Agency Investment Development Film Victoria Production Film Victoria FFC Marketing AFC Marketing Inti, sales agent CiBy Sales Publicity Village Roadshow Cast: Toni Collette (Muriel), Rachel Griffiths (Rhonda), Bill Hunter (Bill), Jeannie Drynan (Betty), Daniel Lapaine (David), Matt Day (Brice). Sophie Lee (Tania), Chris Haywood (Ken). Synopsis: Sometimes your better half is you. SPIDER & ROSE Prod, company Dendy Films

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Dist. companies

Pre-production Production Post-production Principal Credits Director Producers

Southern Star International Dendy Films 13/9/93 - 22/10/93 23 /1 0 /9 3 -1 4 /1 2 /9 3 15 /1 2 /9 3 - Apnl 1994

Bill Bennett Lyn McCarthy Graeme Tubbenhauer Line producer Julia Overton Scriptwriter Bill Bennett DOP Andrew Lesnie Sound recordist Syd Butterworth Editor Henry Dangar Prod, designer Ross Major Costume designer Ross Major Planning and Development Casting Alison Barrett Extras casting Judith Cruden Storyboard artist Brandon Hendroff Production Crew Prod, manager Brenda Pam Prod, co-ordinator Sam Thompson Unit manager Wil Milne Unit assts Kim Bostock Jo Wilkinson Unit runner Julian Ryan AFTRS director’s attach. Sandy Lapore AFTRS attach. Stephanie Kleinhenz Production runner Julian Ryan Prod, accountant Jenny Pawson Insurer FIUA Completion guarantor Film Finances Legal services Allen. Allen & Hemsley Travel co-ordinator Travel Too Freight co-ordinator Midnite Express Base-office liaison Helen Panckhurst Camera Crew Camera operator Andrew Lesnie Focus puller Colin Deane Clapper-loader Jules Wurm Camera assistant Chris Taylor 2nd unit DOP Geoff Owen 2nd unit focus Katrina Crook Robert Agganis Key grip Ray Brown Asst grips Ian Bird Mick Vivian Steve Wells Gaffer John Morton Best boy Paul Sellgren Electric Stephen Gray Steadicam operator Geoff Owen On-set Crew 1st asst director Chris Webb 2nd asst director Maria Phillips 3rd asst director Geoffrey Guiffre Continuity Alison Goodwin Boom operator Graham McKinney Make-up Nikki Gooley Make-up asst. Kathy Courtney Hairdresser Nikki Gooley Choreographer Ray Mather Stunts co-ordinator Glenn Boswell Safety officer Johnny Hallyday Unit nurse Jacquie Ramsay Still photography Lorrie Graham Unit publicist Maria Farmer Catering Johnny Faithfull Catering asst. Sue Bickers Art Department Art director Robert Moxham Props buyer Andrew Short Props dresser Andrew Short Standby props Murray Gosson Action vehicle co-ord. Tim Parry Vehicle construction Lyall Beckmann Wardrobe Wardrobe supervisor Julie Middleton Standby wardrobe Nina Parsons Animals Dog wrangler Steve Austin Roo wranglers Mark Pretty Cody Harris Construction Dept Construct, manager Ian (Kincaid) Doig Post-production Asst editor Bin Li Sound editor Andrew Plain Music performed by Cruel Sea Laboratory Atlab Music consultant Christine Woodruff

Lab liaison Denise Wolfson Gauge 35mm Shooting stock Kodak 5248/5293 Government Agency Investment Production FFC Cast: Ruth Cracknell (Rose). Simon Bossell (Spider). Max Cullen (Jack), Lewis Fitz-gerald (Robert). Jennifer Cluff (Helen). Synopsis: Spider McCall is an ambulance driver with “attitude''. He's resigned but has final orders to drive an elderly patient from a Sydney hospital to her son's farm. Rose Dougherty is a wellpreserved 70 year old who's as spirited and wilful as her driver. They embark on a journey that changes both their lives. THE SUM OF US Prod, company Quicksilver Productions Dist. company Southern Star Entertainment Budget S4 million Pre-production 6 /9 /9 3 -1 4 /1 0 /9 3 Production 1 5 /10 /93 -24 /10 /93 Post-production 25/10/93 ... Principal Credits Directors Kevin Dowling Geoff Burton Producer Hal McElroy Line producer Rod Allan Exec, producer Errol Sullivan Scriptwriter David Stevens DOP Geoff Burton Sound recordist Leo Sullivan Editor Frans Vandenburg Prod, designer Graham (Grace) Walker Planning and development Casting Faith Martin & Associates Production Crew Prod, manager Ann Bruning Prod, co-ordinator Julie Sims Bronwen Stokes Producer's asst Prod, secretary Elly Bradbury Location manager Paul G. Viney Unit manager Will Matthews Asst unit manager Dennis Hulm Production runner Simon Cox Financial controller Peter Anderson Prod, accountant Michelle D'Arcey Insurer H W Wood Australia Completion guarantor Film Finances Camera Crew Camera operator Kathryn Milliss Focus puller Leilani Hannah Clapper-loader Josie Keyes Camera assistant Jonathon Pasvolsky Key grip Simon Quaife Asst grip David Hansen Gaffer Ian (Flowers) Plummer Best boy Robbie Burr 1st electrics Grant Atkinson On-set Crew 1st asst director Carolynne Cunningham 2nd asst director Henry Osborne 3rd asst director Guy Campbell Continuity Jo Weeks Boom operator Sue Kerr Make-up Lesley Rouvray Make-up asst Adele Wilcox Still photography James Pozarik Unit publicist Victoria Buchan Catering Kollage Katering Art Department Art director Ian Gracie Art dept runner Jonathon Tidball Set dressers Kerrie Brown Faith Robinson Standby props Tom Churchill-Brown Wardrobe Wardrobe supervisor Louise Spargo Standby wardrobe Gabby Dunn Wardrobe asst Lyn Askew Construction Dept Scenic artist Nick Walker Construct, manager Geoff Howe Carpenters Eugine Land Steven Tullock Aidan Cartwright Set finisher Zenna Blewitt Post-production Asst editor Shawn Seet Sound transfers by Audioloc Sound editors John Dennison Tony Vaccher

Laboratory Atlab Lab liaison Denise Wolfson Shooting stock Kodak Cast: Jack Thompson (Harry), Russell Crowe (Jeff), John Poison (Greg), Deborah Kennedy (Joyce). Mitch Matthews (Gran), Julie Herbert (Mary), Rebekah Elmalogolou (Jenny), Bob Baines (Greg’s Father), Jan Adele (Gertie). Barry Crocker (Salvation Army Captain). Synopsis: [No details supplied.] THAT EYE THE SKY Entertainment Media Prod, company Beyond Films Dist company Pre-production 16/8/93 ... Production 25/10/93 ... Post-production 20/12/93 ... Principal Credits John Ruane Director Peter Beilby Producer Co-producer Grainne Marmion Fred Schepisi Exec, producers Robert Le Tet Tim Bevan John Ruane Scriptwriters Jim Barton Based on the novel That Eye the Sky Tim Winton Written by Ellery Ryan DOP Sound recordist Lloyd Carrick Editor Ken Sallows Prod, designer Chris Kennedy Vicki Friedman Costume designer Planning and Development Script editor John Flaus Casting Maura Fay & Associates Production Crew 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 Completion Bond Company Legal services Holding Redlich Camera Crew Camera operator Mandy Walker Key grip Barry Hansen Gaffer Ted Nordsvan On-set Crew 1st asst director Phil Jones Continuity Annie Beresford Make-up Amanda Rowbottom Make-up asst Zjelka Stanin Special fx supervisor Michael Bladon Art Department Art director Brian Dusting Art dept co-ordinator Sharon Young Post-production Asst editor Maria Kaltenhaler Laboratory Cinevex Marketing Inti, sales agent Beyond Films Publicity Palace Publicity Cast: Peter Coyote (Henry Warburton), Lisa Harrow (Alice Flack), Jamie Croft (Ort), Mark Fairall (Sam Flack). Amanda Douge (Tegwyn Flack), Louise Siversen (Mrs Cherry), Paul Sonkkila (Mr Cherry), Jeremy Dridan (Fat Cherry), Alelthea McGrath (Grammar). Synopsis: A young boy struggles to free his father from a coma following a car accident. TO THE POINT OF DEATH Prod, company Pocket Money Productions Budget $80,000 Pre-production Aug - Nov 1993 Production 7 /1 1 /9 3 -2 4 /1 1 /9 3 Post-production Feb. - June 1994 Principal Credits Director Craig Godfrey Producer Craig Godfrey Co-producer Mark Tomlinson Scriptwriter Craig Godfrey DOP Mark Tomlinson Sound recordist George Goers Editor Ron McCullouch Composer Tony Francis Planning and Development Dialogue coach Lorraine Merritt

Production Crew Prod, manager Prod, secretary Unit manager Insurer Legal services Camera Crew Camera operators

Scott Goodman Janis Lee Leonie Godfrey Cinesure Page Seager Mark Tomlinson Craig Godfrey Scott Goodman SP Betacam Peter Cass Brett Carter Santo Fontana

Focus puller Camera type Key grip Gaffer Electrician On-set Crew Continuity Jo Howie Special fx make-up Liz Goulding Hairdresser Liz Goulding Special fx Craig Godfrey Safety officer Dorothy Godfrey Tech, adviser Ken Godfrey Still photography Ken Mellors Catering Drunken Admiral Restaurant Art Department Art directors Jo Howie Craig Godfrey Cast: Lorraine Merritt, Jon Sidney, Bill Pearson, Ian Lang, Kerry Laws, Tim Aris, David Noonan, Vick Hawkins, Jacqueline Kelly, Pam John, Gareth John. Synopsis: Upset by an unfaithful fiancé, Cassie Kinsella retreats to a deserted beach town. It is winter. Only an eccentric anthropologist and incestuous couple share the seclusion. Many murders later, Cassie is the target of a madman. Only a mental asylum can save her, maybe. VACANT POSSESSION Prod, company Wintertime Films Pre-production 5 /1 0 /9 3 -7 /1 1 /9 3 Production 8 /1 1 /9 3 -1 7 /1 2 /9 3 Principal Credits Director Margot Nash John Winter Producer Scriptwriter Margot Nash DOP Dion Beebe Other Credits Casting Faith Martin Kathy Kum-sing Aboriginal consult. Prod, manager Caroline Bonham Prod, co-ordinator Fiona King Robin Clifton Location manager Unit manager Rick Kornaat Daniel Heather Production runner Di Brown Prod, accountant Film Finances Completion guarantor Nina Stevenson Legal services Dion Beebe Camera operator Lynn-Maree Dansey Continuity Government Agency Investment AFC Development 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. See previous issues for details on: THE ADVENTURES OF PRISCILLA, QUEEN OF THE DESERT POLICE RESCUE - THE MOVIE THE ROLY POLY MAN ROUGH DIAMONDS

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LIGHTNING JACK Lightning Ridge! IProd, company Productions 'Principal Credits Simon Wincer 'Director Greg Coote IProducers Simon Wincer Paul Hogan 1Exec, producers Graham Burke Grant Hill 1Line producer Scriptwriter Paul Hogan1 DOP David Eggby Sound recordist Lloyd Carrick Editor Nick Brown1 Prod, designer Bernard Hines Bruce Finlayson1 'Costume designer Exec, vice president Mark Gremia Village Roadshow Business affairs Kim Vecera Village Roadshow Lightning Ridge Tony Stewart Planning and Development Script supervisor Liz Barton1 Casting agent Mike Fenton1 Casting associate Julie Ashton1 Extas casting Therese Schoeppner Jack Younc1 Asst extras casting Jackie D. Almada Production Crew Prod, manager Vicki Popplewel 1 Prod, co-ordinators Carrie Durose Serena Gattuso Asst prod, co-ord. Stacy Plavoukos Asst to Paul Hogan Michele Abandond Prod, secretaries Juan Bemardez Julie Cameron1 Karen Bass VP Billabong Bonnie Abaunza Location manager Brian Haynes Unit prod, manager Grant Hill Kash McKewer1 Asst locations Kate Noble Eli Weisman Prod, assistants Andrew Martorano Pat Marz Sonia Apodaca L.A. liaison Jeff Tanner Production runners Rob Catron Cliff Reisig Gareth Calverley San Bernstein Prod, accountants Robert Threadgold Asst auditor James Linville Leslie “Tinker” Linville Accounts assts Angela Kenny Payroll asst Karen Wolfe Art dept, accountant Genevieve Duraire Camera Crew Derry Fiele1 Focus puller Dominic Napolitano 1st asst camera Timothy Dunforc1 2nd asst camera Louis Niemeyer B camera 1st asst Buzz Feitshans B camera operator Steadicam Buzz Feitshans Ann Melvin1 Camera loader Richard Keh!1 Video asst Key grips Robin Knight Graeme Litchfielc1 Chuck Brown Dolly grip Jeff Klutz Best boy grip

Gaffers Best boy Electricians

On-set Crew 1st asst director 2nd asst director 2nd 2nd asst director 2nd unit director Key set p.a. get p.a. Boom operator Cab|e 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 photography Unit publicist Catering Chef driver Craft service Art Department Art directors s till

Sonny Johnson Harlan Espeset Shaw Burroughs Michael Warren Bradley Keller Bob Driskell Tony Holtham Rob Baumgartner Barry Smith Johnny Smith Chris Joehnk Louis Nelson Ramon Ortega Steve Mullen 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 Cindi Simmons Sidney Baldwin Michael Singer Salvador Catering Jose Trujillo Sol Rivera

Liz Thomas Virginia Bieneman Mark Art dept co-ordinators Meloccaro Jenny O’Connell Set designer Andrew Gartner Set decorators Lynn Wolverton Parker Susan Maybury Production artist Peter Lloyd Lead dresser Robert Alcala Set dresser Dan Miller Leonard Vigil Andrew Trujillo Set buyer Barbara Simpson On-set dressers Wren Boney John Kretschmer Draper Bob Baker Propmaster John Pattison Asst props Al Eisenmann Suzanne Lapick Al Eisenmann Armourers Brian Bums Prop makers Scott Peltola Darryl Lee Robert Murray Scenic chargeman Brian Stultz Ray Pedler Scenic artist James F. Onate General foreman Gang boss Peter Durand Bill May Sign painters Terry Kauffman Robert Ramsey

Pat Fulton John Thomas Wayne Drake Alisa Lumbreras Elizabeth Beckman Stephanie Rogers Andrea Guy Trish Thayer

Painters

Standby painter Art dept prod, asst

Wardrobe Wardrobe supervisor Set costumer Costumer Wardrobe Swing Wranglers Ram rod Gang boss Wranglers

Construction Dept Construction co-ord. Construct, manager General foreman Foremen Construct, medic Carpenters

Asst carpenters Labour foreman Labourers

Charlene Amateau Brian Birge Sally Howard Pamala Waggoner Pamala Waggoner Jerry Young Phillip Cowling Jim Ericsson Jack Young Guy Small James Alfonso Tom Berto Tom Byrd Conrad Chitwood Phil Worth Chris Mameus Aaron Newton Terry Kempf Steven Kerber Neil Gahm Kim Hawkins Vince Berry Dan Lynch Jason Newton Alan Feffer Jeff Craig San 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 Tomaski Karl Swauger Syd Moore James Blair Jon Ashley John Marum Jim Fitzpatrick Jim Martin Cody Pittard John Fitzgerald Dave Martin Cameron Martin Valerie Townsley

Transportation Transport co-ord Captain/Make-up Director's trailer Cast trailers

Frank Roughan Ray Holmgren Terry Cmic Jan Ostermann Patsy Lomax Paul Youds

Prop trailer

Creativity, Judgement & Trust Essential ingredients to sound film investment Complete the picture... with Permanent Trustee FILM

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Camera truck Wardrobe trailer Special fx trailer Electrics Grip truck Honeywagon Water truck Cast Construction

Shotmaker driver Vans

Set dressing

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 Charles Hampton Leo Reilly

Post-production 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.

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DOCUMENTARIES

BOYS AND BALLS Prod, company Thermal Falls Pre-production Sept 1993 ... Production Oct 1993 ... Post-production Nov 1993 - Mar 1994 Principal Credits Director Su© Thomson Producer Anna Grieve Assoc, producer Brian Nankervis Scriptwriters Sue Thomson Brian Nankervis DOPs Rey Carlson Sally Eccleston Sound recordist Jock Healey Editor Bill Murphy Other Credits Prod, co-ordinator Fiona Dean 2nd asst director Matt Moss Camera asst Trish Keating Asst editor Kathleen O'Brien Prod, assistant Roger Monk Still photography Mardi Sommerfeld Gaffer Brian Adams Props buyers Kay Keighrey Angela Christa Laboratory DFL Lab liaison Mark Freeman Insurer H. W. Wood Pre-sale ABC Documentaries Cast: John Doyle and Greig Pickhaver (Roy Slaven and H.G. Nelson). Synopsis: A humorous look at men’s love of ball sports. CONVICTIONS Prod, companies Oracle Pictures Notion Picture Co. Dist. company ABC Prinicipal Credits Director David Caesar Producers Robert Reynolds (Oracle) Victor Gentile (Oracle) Exec, producers Christopher McCullough (ABC-TV) Max Lloyd (Notion) Gregory Swanborough (Notion) Scriptwriter Victor Gentile DOPs Mandy Walker David Caesar Editor Mark Perry Other Credits Post-production sound Counterpoint Sound Length 55 mins 16mm Gauge Synopsis: Lifting the lid on the Korean War and

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Australia’s involvement in it. What happened to Australian and Korean POWs in the re-education camps.

Max Lloyd (Notion) Gregory Swanborough (Notion) Megan Simpson Steve Arnold Tony Kavanaugh

Scriptwriter DOP Editor Other Credits Post-production sound

FLOOD - THE MANAGEABLE DISASTER Prod, company Waterview Productions Principal Credits Director Glenn Fraser Producer Grant Harris Line producer Lily Krupicova Exec, producer Neil Benning Scriptwriter Glenn Fraser DOP Rod Tumball Sound recordist Steve Foy Other Credits Prod, managers Stacey Robinson Jane Healy Prod, assts Graham Kent Nicola Bambrick Gaffer John Earthmover Make-up Lisa Poile Narrator Peter Sumner Animation/graphics Animated FX On-line facility Pilgrim Post On-line editors John Cameron Stewart Binstead Sound mix Tony Webb Phoenix Length 20 mins Gauge Betacam SP Client Dept, of Water Resources Cast: Caroline Lewis, Alan David Lee, Russell Newman. Synopsis: An educational program for the De­ partment of Water Resources designed to edu­ cate and inform local government as to the hazards of flooding. THE SAFETY HABIT Prod, company Let M.E. Get It Write Dist. company Australian Firearms Consultancy Pre-production 23 /1 0 /9 3 -2 6 /1 1 /9 3 Production 27 /1 1 /9 3 -2 8 /1 1 /9 3 Post-production 29/11/93 - 31/1/94 Principal Credits Director Michael Enders Producer Michael Enders Scriptwriter Michael Enders DOP Kevin Darch Sound recordist Luke Nixon Editor Mark Swan Production Crew Prod, manager Michael Enders Producer’s asst Lily Enders Prod, assistant Christine Orpen Financial controller Paul Murray Camera Crew Camera operators Kevin Darch Mark Swan Clapper-loader Nathan Mayfield Camera assistants Nathan Mayfield Luke Nixon Camera type Sony Continuity Christine Orpen Boom operator Nathan Mayfield Safety officer Terry Parker Tech, advisers Michael Keller Michale Crowley Art Department Armourer Terry Parker Post-production Narrator Marty Turpin Marketing Marketing consultant Martin King Cast: Simone Miller, John Diggle, George Kambouris, Jacob Darch. Melissa Murray. Robin Darch. Synopsis: This is a firearms training film for use in conjunction with TAFE Course CN 906: Intro­ duction to Firearms Safety. WAR OF DISTANCE Prod, companies Oracle Pictures Notion Picture Co. Dist. company ABC Prinicipal Credits Director Megan Simpson Producers Robert Reynolds (Oracle) Victor Gentile (Oracle) Exec, producers Christopher McCullough (ABC-TV)

Counterpoint Sound Length 55 mins Gauge 16mm Synopsis: The historical and psychological dif­ ferences between Australian women and men in their approach to and roles in war. specifically World War II. YOU, ME AND DIRETFE Prod, company Waterview Productions Principal Credits Director Grant Harris Producer Lily Krupicova Scriptwriter Karen Myers DOP Jon Matthews Sound recordist Matthew Brand Other Credits Prod, manager Stacey Robinson Off-line editor Louise Hawthorn On-line editor Stewart Binstead On-line facility Pilgrim Post Animation/graphics Animated FX Sound mix Tony Webb Phoenix Music Library Length 12 mins Gauge Betacam SP Narrator John Downes Sponsor DIRETFE Cast: DIRETFE employees. Caroline Lewis. Synopsis: A training video for the NSW Depart­ ment of Industrial Relations. Employment, Train­ ing and Further Education which clarifies the department's corporate identity, structure, goals and values: as well as outlining the department's various programs and their broad functions.

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EXTREMES OF SORROW Prod, company Burchmore Productions Budget 595,000 Pre-production 1 3 /9 /9 3 -3 /1 1 /9 3 Production 4 /1 1 /9 3 -9 /1 /9 4 Post-production 9/1/94 - 16/3/94 Principal Credits Director Zorro Gamamik Producer Stewart Burchmore Scriptwriter Zorro Gamarnik DOP Zorro Gamamik Editor Michael Nettleship Art director Marlon Porter Composer Anthony Partos Other Credits Translators Lee Gaywood Stewart Burchmore Insurer Steeves Lumley Legal services Lyndon Sayer-Jones 1st asst director Megan Williams Still photography Andrew McDonald Animation assts Marlon Porter Robert Nobiltà Scott Baker Gongquatt maker Damian Martin Construct, supervisor Richard Townsley Laboratory Atlab Lab liaison Andrea Brock Gauge Film Animation Video special fx Videolab Government Agency Investment Production AFC Marketing AFC Synopsis: A film that encourages a more diver­ sionary form of thinking to explore mood and effect in the realm of the odd or the unnaturally peculiar. A HOPE IN HELL Prod, companies The Write-On Group Emerald Films Dist companies AFI Distribution Discovery International Pre-production 6 /1 2 /9 3 - 17/12/93 Production 2 2 /1 2 /9 3 -4 /3 /9 4 Post-production 7/3/94 - 9/6/94

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Principal Credits Director Producers Scriptwriters DOP Editor Composer Other Credits Still photography Sound post-prod. Runner Legal services Insurers

James Ferguson Leisl Hillhouse Sherry Stumm James Ferguson Stephen Dunne Tom Gleeson Tony Egan Alastair Stevenson

Michael Blanchino Jim Blackfoot Toni Strachan David Geddes FIUA Cinesure Post-prod, studio Audio Edge Government Agency Investment Production AFC NSWFTO Synopsis: Within the hell of the prison system there is a small unit called the Special Care Unit where inmates are helped to come to grips with their feelings. We meet a complex and compel­ ling group of people who are taking part in this process, and we become involved in the drama and pathos of their day-to-day lives. THE SEWING ROOM Prod, company Judy Schreiber Film Productions 5163,541 Budget Pre-production Oct 1993 ... Production Nov 1993 ... Post-production Dec 93 - Feb 94 Principal Credits Director Rick Randall Producer Judy Schreiber Assoc, producer Jo Bell Scriptwriter Rick Randall DOP Kym Vaiteikus Sound recordist Gretchen Thombum Editor Mark Atkin Art director Peter Long Composer Wayne Joiner Production Crew Location surveyor Eliena Galtos Prod, assistant Ellena Galtos Prod, runner Eliena Galtos Prod, accountant Mandy Carter Insurer Richard Oliver Legal services Roth Warren Camera Crew Camera assistant Peter Scott Steadicam Louis Pull Underwater camera Ivan Johnston Camera type Aaton Key grip Ian Park Asst grip Matthew Connard Gaffer Rob Young Generator operator Roy Pritchett On-set Crew 1st asst director Monica Pearce Continuity Victoria Sullivan Boom operator Catherine South Make-up Lloyd James Special fx make-up Lloyd James Hairdresser Lloyd James Stunts co-ord. Eddie McShortall Safety officer Peter Culpan Chaperone Maria DeLeo Still photography Kym Schreiber Catering Helen Clarke Runner Ginny Klooger Art Department Asst art director Susan Bamford Art dept casual Tom Kokkinos Kennedy Standby props Susan Bamford Wardrobe Wardrobe supervisor Peter Long Standby wardrobe Lloyd James Seamstress Ruth Randall Post-production Asst editor Mark Ellis Editing facilities The Joinery Edge numberer Oliver Streeton Sound transfers by Eugene Wilson Sound designer Craig Carter Sound editor Craig Carter Dialogue editor Jock Healy Sound editing facilities A Room with a VU Musical director Wayne Joiner

Music performed by Wayne Joiner Mixer James Currie Mixed at Soundfirm Opticals Ian Sheath Titles The Funny Farm Laboratory Cinevex Lab liaison Ian Anderson Neg matching Rowan Wilson Gauge Super 16 Screen ratio 1:1.85 Shooting stock Kodak 7293 Government Agency Investment Production AFC Cast: Nicolas Anderson (Pip), Maude Davey (Grace), Robert Menzies (Jack). Synopsis: The nostalgic '50s and a young boy wakes to the sound of a sewing machine. Pip and his mother share a time of innocence. Will the red dress ever be finished?

Post-production Principal Credits Director Producer Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordists Editor Prod, designer Composer Other Credits Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Unit manager Prod, assistants

J a n -F e b 1994 Jane Schneider Nicki Roller Marele Day John Higgins Andrew Blenkinsop Michael Taylor Robin Lloyd Hillary M. Austin Charlie Chan

Nicki Roller Mark Bounds Cathy Buff Yvonne Thorpe Emma Palavs Jeff McDonald Jacqui Crouch Neale Maude Camera operators See previous issue for details on: Paul Pandoulis MICHELLE’S THIRD NOVEL Lani Hannah Focus pullers NIGHT RELEASE Chris Taylor ROSIE’S RETURN Lara Connor Clapper-loader SEETHING NIGHT Cindi Drennan 1st asst director Brendan Fletcher 2nd asst director Fabiola Pantea 3rd asst director Stewart Ewings Continuity Deborah Hooper Boom operator A KITCHEN APPLIANCE Anna McGinley Make-up Prod, company AFTRS Carmel Martin Post-production Jan - Feb 1994 Paul Shakeshaft Still photography Carloyn Principal Credits Post-prod, co-ordinator Director ' Andrew Lancaster Cerexhe Producer Stefanie Kleinhenz Dennis Archer Sound editor Scriptwriter Michaeley O ’Brien George Turmura Sound engineer DOP Tristan Milani Matt Villa Foley Editor Roland Gallois Dennis Archer Mixer 16mm Prod, designer Nicki Gardiner Film gauge Composer Andrew Lancaster Cast: Gosia Dobrowolska (Rachel), Deborah Kennedy (Phillipa Black P.I.), Tatea Riley Other Credits Prod, manager Stefanie Kleinhenz (Angela), Shayne Foote (Gerry), Waiata Telfer Prod, co-ordinator CarolynCerexhe (Katrina), Yvonne Thorpe (Mickey), Raj Sidhu (Shirl), San McDeed (Bouncer). Unit managers Philip Francis Paul Roberts Synopsis: Believing she is being two-timed, a Prod, assistant SallyLancaster woman begins a comic and obsessive journey to discover the truth. Focus puller Lisa Lloyd Clapper-loader Dean Winnell Key grip Shane Peterson THE STRANGER AFTRS Asst grip Johann Fingal Prod, company Jan - April 1994 Gaffer Tony Mandl Post-production 1st asst director Murray Fahey Principal Credits Jun Li 2nd asst director SallyLancaster Director Nicki Roller Continuity Stewart Ewings Producer Robert Connelly Playback operator Peter O’Brien Scriptwriter Moira Moss Make-up Kim Blowes DOP Michael Taylor Special fx/electrics Colin Kemp Sound recordist Susie Spittle Art dept asst Paul Myers Editor Brett Chandler Wardrobe supervisor Susan Ward Prod, designer Xiao Yuan Zhou Asst editor DanielNettheim Composer Sound editor Andrew Lancaster Other Credits Nicki Roller Film gauge 35mm Dolby stereo Prod, manager David Scandol Cast: Matt Potter (Charles), Gerald Letts (Boss), Prod, co-ordinator Emma Palavs Unit manager Nicola Quilter (Boss’ Wife/Ad Woman), Michael Kris Cawthorn Zarb (Executive), Brian Roberts (Tuba Player), Prod, runner Emma Cooper Peter Alcock (Oboe Player), Martin Murphy (Per­ Focus puller Alex Morrison 1st asst director cussionist), Genevieve Stynes (Cellist), Glen Louise Loomes Wood (Violinist), Kay Armstrong (Clarinettist), 2nd asst director Catriona McKenzie 3rd asst director Greg Fitzgerald (Second Inventor). Karin McEvoy Synopsis: Energetic portrayal of the creation of Continuity James McGinlay Boom operator an eggbeater in the 1950s. James Neil Runner Gwendolyn Stukely NIGHTV/ORK Standby wardrobe Carloyn AFTRS Post-prod, co-ordinator Prod, company

AUSTRALIAN FILMTELEVISION & RADIO SCHOOL

Cerexhe Jane Schneider Editing asst Peter O'Brien Sound editor Phil Judd Mixer 16mm Film gauge Cast: Xiao-Xiong Zhang (Long). Vina Lee (Lin), Cathie Simpson (Madam). William Gan (Man on Train). Wang Handong (Man in Brothel). Synopsis: Quite by chance, two old friends are brought together in a foreign land. Long and Lin. professional dancers in China, now live in Syd­ ney, Australia. The moment of reunion they share is clouded by memories and denial.

CONSTRUCTIVE REFORM Prod, companies Apocalypse Post Apocalyse Corporate Credits Director Darren Ashton Producer Sean Michael Daley Scriptwriter Darren Ashton DOP Graeme Ross Camera asst Chris Taylor Sound Andrew Moylan Off-line editor Louis Byme-Smith On-line Philippa Rowlands Music Library Prod, manager Helen Linthorne A TIME FOR ETERNITY Graphics-animation Tim Dyroff Prod, company AFTRS Apocalypse Post-production Jan - Feb 1994 Laboratory Apocalypse Principal Credits Length 12 mins Director Thomas Kayser Gauge 16mm Producer MarkLazarus SP Betacam Assoc, producer CarolynCerexhe Narrator Matthew O ’Sullivan Scriptwriter Thomas Kayser Sponsor Construction Policy Steering DOP Mark Zagar Committee - Public Works Sound recordist LianeFletcher Synopsis: An introduction to the construction Editor Deborah Niski reform manual produced by the Construction Prod, designer Hilary M. Austin Policy Steering Committee. Has interviews with Other Credits various leaders in the building industry and lead­ Prod, manager MarkLazarus ing public sector public works personnel. Prod, co-ordinator CarolynCerexhe Unit manager Henri Reiche Prod, assistant Tasha Mahalm FUNDS BOOST - NEWS/ARCHIVAL Prod, company Streamline Camera operator GeoffreyDownes DOPs Mai Hamilton Gaffers Andrew Robertson Mike McKenzie Tony Mandl Sponsor NSW Health Dept. - Public Affairs Best boys Paul Reddin Synopsis: Footage for news release and archi­ Johann Fingal val purposes. 1st asst director Karan Monkhouse 2nd asst director Belinda Johns Continuity Karin McEvoy Boom operator Brian Baker Wardrobe supervisor Gwendolyn Stukely Sound editor Liam Egan Mixer Liam Egan Film gauge Super 16 Cast: Veronica Porcaro (Suri), Hilly Lofton (Afri­ can Man). Synopsis: A horror tale about a young, female church organist who faces a choice between redemption and artistic perfection.

FILMAUSTRALIA See previous issue for details on: AEROPLANE DANCE AUSTRALIAN BIOGRAPHY III COMEDY (Working title ) DREAM HOUSE FLOWERS AND THE WIDE SEA THE FORGOTTEN FORCE THE GADFLY GORGEOUS MUTTABURRASAURUS THE PRAM FACTORY WILDLIFE CRIMINALS

THE HUMAN FACTOR Prod, company The Airdale Film Co. Credits Director Andrew Williams Producer Andrew Williams Scriptwriter Andrew Williams DOP Michael Ewers Sound Graham Wyse Off-line editor LindaKruger On-line editor Stewart Binstead Sound mix Phoenix Studios Music Dave Skinner Prod, manager Suzanne Pearce Length 11.30 mins Gauge Betcam SP Sponsor Health Department - Public Affairs Cast: Paul Robertson. Debrah Algar. Jeamin Lee. Ella-Mai Wong. Andrew Lloyd, Suzann Roylance. Daisy Cousens, Rose Cousens. Synopsis: Accent on customer focus with the Health Department. Incidents show staff re­ sponses to customers.

NSWFILM& TELEVISION OFFICE BOOK LAUNCH Prod, company Streamline Sponsor NSW Health Dept. Synopsis: Complie of existing footage for Book Launch, plus studio camera shots to be added.

MOMENTS OF CHOICE Paul Haines & Prod, company Associates Credits Paul Haines Director Paul Haines Producer Liz de Rome Scriptwriter Jon Matthews DOP Matthew Brand Sound Paul Haines Off-line editor 20 mins & 18 mins Length SP Betacam Gauge Roads & Traffic Authority Sponsor

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• 73

Assoc, producer Managing director

John Hugginson Errol Sullivan, Southern Star Des Monaghan, ATN 7

Stephen Jones Ron Hagen Don Connolly Network dir. of prod. Murray Picknett Other Credits Christiana Plitzco Financial controller Peter Anderson, Nick Holmes PRE-DRIVER TRAINING Southern Star Denise Hartazis Prod, company Laurie Tesoriero Asst to Mr McElroy Bronwen Stokes Todd Hunter Composer Television Network head of drama Planning and Development Credits development LouiseHomeScript editor Chris Roache Director Simon Von Wolkenstein Director of prod. Drew Lean (HSV 7) Trainee script editor Lisa Hoppe Producer Laurie Tesoriero Prod, operations manager Russell Gray Pirn Hendrix Attach script editor Script Thrilling and Willing (HSV 7) Sandra McKenzie Casting DOPs Preston Clothier Technical liaison Tim Coulson (HSV 7) Joan Thompson Casting assistant Mai Hamilton Scheduling supervisor Peter Fleming Soccer coach Steve Darby Camera assistant Toby Brittan (HSV 7) Production Crew Make-up LisaPoulier Studio operations Mark Chambers (HSV 7) Prod, co-ordinator Debbie Atkins Phionna Parsons Prod, manager PamTummel Christina Van Der Sound KenSandell Producer's asst Prod, co-ord. Jo Warren Heyden Ian Sherry Story editor Denise Morgan Rosa Del Ponte Prod, secretary On-line editor Stewart Binstead Script editor Denise Morgan Rob Brown Sound mix Counterpoint Studios Prod, runners Police advisor MichaelWinter Music Ian Cline Simon Klaebe Casting director FaithMartinUnit manager Rick Kornaat Prod, manager Charles Amsden Casting assistant Anissa McCarthy Length 15 mins Prod, accountant Cynthia Kelly Prod, secretary Helen Boicovitis Sponsor Roads & Traffic Authority Accounts asst Miranda Kelly Prod, accountant MandyCarterTravel co-ord. Travel Too Cast: Troy Rowley, Kathy Welch, Matthew 1st asst directors IanKennyCamera Crew Zawadzki, David Morgan, Daniel Morgan, Marion David Clarke Gamma, Harry Dakanalis, Jo Phillips, Katrina Gary Bottomley Focus puller 2nd asst director SergeAdimari Retallick, Glen Hoare, Linden Goh, Sean Clapper-loader Michele Duval Director's assts Paul Kiely Morrison, Amanda Cameron, Richard Grieve, Sammies Equipment Morag Smart Tim Campbell, Catherine Wright, Myfanwy Ian Freeman Key grip Prod, designer Michael Bridges Morgan, Troy Carlson, Matt Day, Nichole Moore. Grip Robert Kerr Art directors Jenny Carseldine (pilot) Lisa Treloar, Craig Beamer, Peter Brailey, Liza Gaffer Tom Moody Phil Chambers (series) Witt, Graeme Brown. Andrew Smith Best boy Props buyers Rolland Pike Synopsis: Five dramatized sequences designed On-set Crew Michael Ackerly to trigger driver safety discussions amongst 1st asst directors Jamie Crooks Standby props TimDisney school students. The “triggers” cover a broad Kath Hayden Set dresser Simon McCutcheon range of styles, from comedy to real life drama, Nikki Long 2nd asst director Location manager JohnGreene animation and a stylized computer game. 3rd asst director Tom Read Unit manager Shane Warren Script assistant Margaret Wilson Wardrobe manager Valerie NelsonContinuity WETLANDS PROMO Nicola Moors Wardrobe supervisor Keryn Ribbands Prod, company Richard Bradley Linda Ray Standby wardrobe Alban Farrawell Productions Boom operator Graham McKinney Make-up artist SimoneAlbertMake-up Viv Mepham Credits Make-up DeborahLesterMake-up asst Noreen Wilkie Director Richard Bradley Hairdresser DeborahLesterHairdresser Producer Richard Bradley Viv Mepham Senior cameraman StevenScobleAsst hairdresser Scriptwriter Richard Bradley Noreen Wilkie Cameraman MalcolmDaff Stunts co-ordinator Danny Baldwin DOP Jack Wilson Technical director AndrewCutlerSafety officer Sound Andrew Timlin Danny Baldwin Lighting director FrankRacinaPublicist Sound Recording Tracks Jamie Campbell Location gaffer StephenPrice Catering Ron Van Der Heyden Off-line editor Angus Read Studio gaffers Osvaldo Civetta Glen Sommer Music Library Catering asst Peter Scott Laboratory Frame Set and Match Art Department Studio rigger PeterScott Art director Sponsor Bicentennial Park Homebush Jon Rohde Studio technical asst DavidField Props buyers Cast: Angela Pearman. Kris Torma Location technical asst Rohan Synopsis: Provides an overview of the park with Leanne Cornish Schmidt a message for potential sponsors. Standby props Marcus Erasmus Location sound director John Runner Adam Slater Wilkinson WOMEN’S HEALTH Wardrobe Studio audio director David Muir Prod, company S. Lambert & A. Standby wardrobe Mary Christodoulou Location boom operator Malcolm Wotherspoon Wardrobe asst Amanda Sedawie Hughes Credits Construction Dept Studio boom operators PeterCraig Construct, manager Director Sarah Lambert Alan Fleming Julian Glavacich Producer Alison Wotherspoon Post-production Stunts co-ord. ArchRoberts Scriptwriters Sarah Lambert Post-prod, supervisor Stella Savvas Safety supervisor Tom Coltraine Alison Wotherspoon Patrick Stewart Asst, editor Grip Jamie Leckie DOP Susan Thwaites Sound editor Penn Robinson Staging Lindsay Pugh Sound Cathie Napier Sound post Tracks Australia Travis Ackerly Off-line editor Lisa Anne Morris Telecine transfer Videolab Armourer JohnBromley Music Felicity Foxx Cutting rooms Frame Set & Match Catering Chery Kahler Length 20 mins On-line facilities Frame Set & Match Make-up/wardrobe bus Colin Forsythe Gauge SP Betcam Music supervisor Christine Woodruff Background Action Synopsis: Women from non-English speaking Music editor David Rae Publicity VictoriaBuchan backgrounds relate their experiences within the Laboratory Movielab Susan Elizabeth Wood (HSV 7) health care system. Designed for middle and Stock Kodak Flights & accomodation JetAviation higher personnel in health care system to de­ Cast: Alex Dimitriades (Nick Poulos), Sarah Cast: John Wood (Tom Croydon), Grant Bowler velop an awareness of special services in place Lambert (Christina Milano). Nico Lathouris (W ayne Patterson). Ann Burbrook (Roz for these women and to urge them to consult with (George Poulos), DorisYounane(YolaFutoush), Patterson), Lisa McCune (Maggie Doyle). William the women. Scott Major (Peter Rivers). Hugh Baldwin Mclnnes (Nick Schultz). Julie Nihill (Chris Riley), (Graham Brown). Peta Toppano (Stella). Martin Sacks (PJ Hasham). Salvatore Coco (Con Bordino), Corey Page Synopsis: [No further details supplied.] (Steve Wiley). Abi T ucker (Jody Cooper), Stephen O'Rourke (Jim Deloraine). Jan Adele (Ruby St. HEARTBREAK HIGH John). Elly Varrenti (Ireni Poulos), Isabella BLUE HEELERS (series) Prod, company Gannon Television Southern Star Prod, company Gutierrez (Chaka Cardenes). Nicholas Garsden Principal Credits (Marco Rossi). Katherine Halliday (Rosa Malouf). Principal Credits Directors Michael Jenkins Gary Conway Tai Nguyen (Jack). Despina Caldis (Effie Poulos). Directors Graham Thorburn Emma Roach (Danielle Miller). Paul Moloney Ian Gilmour Judith John-Story Synopsis: Television spin-off from feature film. Shirley Barrett Julian McSwiney Andrew Prouse Robert LIFT OFF 2 Supervising producer Ben Gannon Producer iProd, i u u . tcompany /u m p a n y n w i r Bruning ACTF Exec, producer Michael Jenkins Principal Credits Hal McElroy Exec, producer

Synopsis: Training videos for the Roads & Traffic Authority Customer Services training pro­ gram. The training videos are designed for staff in Motor Registry and Vehicle Regulation.

Brendan Maher Paul Nichola Ray Boseley Cameron Clarke Dr Patricia Edgar Producer Susie Campbell Co-producer Sandra Alexander Line producer Ray Boseley Scriptwriters Christine Madafferi Cameron Clarke Sue Edgar Sue Hore Penny Robenstone-Harris Craig Barden DOP Tel Stolto Prod, designer Rose Chong Costume designer Editor Edward McQueen-Mason Chris Neal Composer Planning and Development Julie Turner Researchers Camilla Gold Chris Anastassiades Story & script editors Robert Greenberg Liz Mullinar Casting Casting Production Crew Ray Hennessy Prod, manager Deborah Segment unit prod, mgr Samuels Susie Wright Prod, co-ord. Julian Dimsey Segment unit co-ord. Julian Dimsey Visual effects co-ord. Mervyn Magee ABC prod, manager Lee-anne Jones ABC prod, co-ord. Prod, secretary Robin Astley Jan Challenor Producer's secretary Jan Challenor Receptionist Location manager John Brousek Prod, runner Michael Agnew Prod, accountant Sophie Siomos Completion guarantors Film Finances Guarantor rep. Ann Darrouzet On-set Crew Phil Jones 1st asst directors Stuart Wood Art Department Art designer Bernie Wynack ABC asst designer Dale Mark Props buyer Marian Murray Art dept secretary Samantha Eddey Puppet doctor Hamish Hicks Puppet designer Terry Denton Puppet maker Rob Matson Special fx designer Michael Bladen Post-production Supervising editor Ralph Strasser Video facilities AAV Musical director David Cheshire (Wakadoo Studio) Producer’s asst Katrina Mathers Technical producer Julie Peters Lighting director Mike Bramley Lighting console operator Eric Burt Lighting assistant Andrew Jepson Audio operator Gary Schultz Vision operators John Parker (WK7) Pat North (WK9) Senior camera Greg Wilden Vision mixer Joe Murray Camera operators Soner Tunchay Andrew Schmidt Sound assistants Peter Bradley Ernie Everitt Asst grips Kelly Simpson Lisa Burridge Setting crew staging Darko Hribernik Alf Camilleri Bill Whiteside Asst designer Peter De Jong Staging assistant John Lambert Videotape operator Sue Woods Cast: [No further details supplied.] Synopsis: [No further details supplied.] Series director Directors

Line producer DOP Sound recordist Prod, designer Costume supervisor Editors

TELEVISION PRODUCTION

74 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

97/98

■ ■

TELEVISION POST-PRODUCTION

J j

THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BLINKY BILL (series) Prod, company Yoram Gross Film Studios Dist. company Beyond Distribution EM-Entertainment (Europe)

Principal Credits

Director Producer Exec, producers Editors Composer

Completion guarantor Yoram Gross Yoram Gross Sandra Gross Tim Brooke-Hunt G. Y. Jerzy Kouichi Kashiwa Guy Gross

Other Credits

Storyboard artists

Character design

Background design Background artists

Background assts Layout supervisor Layout artists

Animation directors

Senior animators

Audio post-prod. Animation services Laboratory Lab liaison

Susan Beak John Burge Steve Lumley Henry Neville Ray Nowland Gerard Piper Harry Rasmussan Robert Smit 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 Moran 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 Linkov Stan Walker Trackdown Studios Colorland Animation Productions Atlab Denise Wolfson

Film Finances

Electrician

Michael Baker

Government Agency Investment

On-set Crew

Development NSW Film & Television 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.

1st asst directors

2nd asst directors Continuity

Boom operators Make-up Make-up asst Safety officer Still photography

PARADISE BEACH

Prod, company Dist. company

Paradise Beach Productions New World Entertain­ ment

Unit publicists Catering

Principal Credits

Directors

Producer Exec.producers

Assoc, producer Scriptwriters DOP Sound recordists Editors Art director Music supplied by

Andrew Friedman Chris Langman Steve Mann Riccardo Pellizzeri 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

Art Department

Art director Asst art director Graphics Art dept co-ord Art dept runner Set dressers

Props buyers Standby props

Casting Dialogue coach Budgeted by

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)

Wardrobe

Wardrobe supervisor Wardrobe buyer Standby wardrobe Wardrobe asst

Planning and Development

Script editors

Arnie 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

Rick Maier Alexa Wyatt Maura Fay & Assoc. John Dommett Michael Lake

Construction Dept

Scenic artist Construct, manager

Accounts asst Paymaster Insurer Legal services Travel co-ordinator Freight co-ordinator

Editing assts Sound editors

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

Mixers

On-line editors

Facilities manager Music editor Asst music editor

Focus puller Camera assistant Key grip Asst grip Gaffer

Robert Monson Geoff Lamb Vic Kaspar Stefan Kluka Trevor Harrison Brad Howard Promos Keith Bennett Peter Robinson Brett Straughan Helen Reeves Warren Pearson Mandy Rollins

Government Agency Investment

Revolving Film Fund, Qld Government

Production Marketing

New World Entertain­ ment New World Entertain­ Inti, distributor ment Marina Glass Publicity 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 Inti, sales agent

Camera Crew

Camera operators

Adam Smigielski Andrew Gardiner

Post-production

Production Crew

Prod, supervisor Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Producer's asst Prod, secretary Location manager Unit manager Production runner Prod, accountant

Phil Eagles Phil Eagles Helen Maines Linda Walton Penny Neilson

Michael Healey Brent Cox Paul Howard David Elmes Bede Haines Grant Nielson Jacon Parry John Bryden-Brown

(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. STARS (series p ilo t)

Lennox Productions 20/7/93 - 3/10/93 1/11/93 ...

Prod, company Production Post-production Principal Credits

Phillip Harris Phillip Harris Sabina Harris Phillip Harris Marco Zeilinger Tom Robson Phillip Harris Sabina Harris Ken Goederee

Director Producer Co-producer Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordist Editor Prod, designer Composer Planning and Development

Sabina Harris

Script editor Production Crew

Sabina Harris Lara Robson Sabina Harris

Prod, manager Prod, assistant Base-office liaison Camera Crew

Marco Zeilinger Kate McManus JVC Nigel Pugh Laurence Clark

Camera operator Camera assistant Camera type Key grip Gaffer On-set Crew

Playback operator Boom operator Make-up Stunts co-ordinator Still photography

John Bishop Andrew Gibbard Helen Leonard Clive Carter Melinda Kay Lucy Ackers

Wardrobe

Wardrobe supervisor Wardrobe buyer Wardrobe asst

Sabina Harris Tina Hastings Lara Robson

Animals

Karen Wheeler

Animal handler Post-production

Phillip Harris Sabina Harris Rand Productions John Bishop Ken Goederee Shoot S-VHS PRO Edit 1”C Shooting stock FUJI H471S Lennox Productions Off-line facilities Cast: Simon Hastings (Paul), Nigel Pugh (John), Kate McManus (Sheena) , Elizabeth EllisonJones (Joanne), Robert Ringleben (Graham), Sophie Hastings (Sandra). Synopsis: Paul is a “would-be” if he “could-be” rock star trying to make it big. With his band on a backing tape and two girl singers, Joanne and Sheena, they play in pizza shops and milk bars. Post-prod, supervisor Asst editor Sound transfers by Sound editor Music performed by Gauge

See previous issue fo r d eta ils on: OCEAN GIRL (series) SHIP TO SHORE (series)

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PAPERS

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ooo 993

CINEMA

• 75

The Last Tw enty Years C atalogue M otion picture technologies and how we he s tru c tu re and c o n te n t of any m e ch a n ic ally-

can provide c o n te n t on m any lev e ls, s o m eth in g w e ’ve

d e p en d en t art, such as film m a k in g , is changed

taken fo r g ran ted . It’s only on re -rea d in g th a t th e gradual

by the e q u ip m en t and film sto ck s th at are a va ilab le at the

d e v e lo p m e n t becom es o b v io u s. T h e e arly c o n te n t cam e

tim e.

e x c lu s iv e ly from in te rvie w s th a t w ere ab o u t th e m e ch an ­

In 1984, at the tim e of the 10th A nn iversary issue, the

ics of film p ro d u c tio n , the c rea tio n of im ag es and sound,

first d iscu ssio n s w ere taking place in film theory on the

and of doing deals to get the film s m ade. T o w a rd s th e end

im portance of the “a p p ara tu s ” in our understand ing of

of the firs t ten y ears, the q u e stio n s asked in in terview s ch an g ed to c o n te n t, s ty le and, most

film tech n iq u e. Ten years later, there is no m ajor study that I can find on how the developm ents in te c h n o l­ ogy

have

changed

A u s tr a lia n

o b v io u s ly , th e

CINEMA PAPERS DAVID WILLIAMSON INTERVIEWED/ PRODUCTION PROFILE— THE CARS TH AT ATE PARIS/ FRANCIS B I R U E S - KODAKER/ TARIFF BOARD REPORT/ PERFORMANCE SCRIPT EXTRACTS/ RAT HA R R Y H A U SEN - CREATOR OF SPECIAL VISUAL EFFECTS/ DIRECTED BY KEN G. HALL/ GILUAN ARMSTRONG— ONE HUNDRED A DAY.

b u s in e s s

o f film ­

m aking. W ith th is c h an g e, th e re was the in e v ita b le loss of th e e n th u siasm

film m akin g . It also surprised me that

th a t w as d is p la y e d w h ile th e editors

no film historian had been interested

w ere lea rn in g th e ir craft.

in how our isolation from the U.S.

in the perio d fro m 1984 to today,

and British industries in the early

the issu es w ere our g ro w in g su re­

y e a rs of A u s tra lia n

had

ness of te c h n iq u e , of film th e o ry , of

forced us to re-invent m any of the

how our film m a k e rs fit into th e w orld.

te c h n iq u e s and d evelo p our own

T e c h n ic a lly , it w as one of keep in g up

equipm ent, based on w hat we saw in

w ith e v o lv in g te c h n o lo g ie s , e s p e ­

the o verseas film product.

c ia lly th e im p act of v id eo and com ­

c in e m a

W o rkin g th ro u g h the past tw en ty

puters. The ch an g es th a t have been

years issues of C in e m a P a p e rs , you

reported in th e past five y ears have

realise w h at a unique role C in e m a P a p e rs has played.

had m ore im p act than the p revio u s fifte e n , but, because

S in ce 1974, th is m ag azin e has d o cu m en ted our com ing

the p rocess is still u n d erw ay, it is h a rd er to see the

of age in a w orld cin em a, c h an g in g itself as it did so. In

in d ivid u a l ch an g es.

th o se e arly years, the in terview s often d is p la y ed the

If there is an em p h asis on th o se e arlie r years, and the

in te rvie w ers lack of k n o w led g e of fe a tu re film te c h ­

anecdotal approach has triv ia lized th e im p o rtan ce of any

n iques. Y et reading them to d ay, th e re is a sen se of

one p e rs o n ’s contrib u tio n to A u stralian film h istory, then

e x c ite m e n t in learning our craft, as the m ag azin e be­

accept my apologies. You can dism iss this w hole excercise

cam e part of a g row ing industry.

as my nostalgia for the kind of co n ve rs atio n s th at are

C in e m a P a p e rs is now a m ature and unique v o ice th at

76

• CINEMA

PAPERS

9 7 / 9 8

hidden in those yello w in g stacks of back issues.

F.H.

1 have used them . From the pages o f Cinema Papers 1974 to 1994. IN THE BEGINNING THERE WAS THE EDITORIAL BIAS

dream in an American-dominated market. Be­

Although the tenth anniversary issue covered

shooting on 16mm and enlarging it to 35mm, if

the early history of Cinema Papers more than

we were lucky enough to ensure a theatrical

adequately, the following detail is worth repeat­

release. Central to this, I believe, was not as

cause of this, we were attracted to the option of

ing. In March 1974, Ewart Wade’s Lumiere maga­

much the advantages of the lower 16mm stock

zine ceased publication, and left a gap in the

budgets, as to the lack of fam iliarity (or avail­

spread of technical, equipment and craft infor­

ability to) 35mm equipment by a new genera­

mation for the Australian film industry. The “born

tion of filmmakers.

again” Cinema Papers of that year had a differ­

It is no coincidence that the first features that

ent stated editorial objective, yet the Editorial

were shot in 35mm were shot by cinematogra­

Board (Peter Beilby, Philippe Mora and Scott

phers who used 35mm regularly for production

Murray) and their friends who contributed arti­

of television and cinema commercials. Robin

cles were beginning or practicing filmmakers.

Copping in Melbourne and Ross Woods in Syd­

So, although in those first years there were few specific technical articles, their interests came through in the interviews with the Aus­ tralian feature-film directors and crew. They wanted to make feature films themselves, and while they asked questions that on reading today may have seemed naïve to some of the industry professionals at the time, they were the questions that we, as readers, would have asked (especially those of us who were eagerly making short films with the first flush of money from the Experimental Film Fund). Just as important as the quotes and illustra­ tions from those interviews were the advertise­ ments around them. The ads were to provide the only industry services and facilities inform a­ tion until the first Motion Picture Yearbook ap­ peared in 1980. Encore magazine only really shifted its emphasis from variety acts into a film industry publication in June 1983, two months after it was aquired by the owners of Australian Film Review and Greg Bright took over as editor. Since that time you would need to take both Encore and Cinema Papers as sou rces for a factual history, but this is a one-eyed ap­ proach as to how we covered the changes.

CHANGING THE FILM FORMAT la 1974, we were making the bulk of our films in 16mm. There seemed no chance of theatrical

ney are justtw o examples. Commercial produc­ tion has been the financial mainstay of Australian cinema for all but a few of those twenty years. It has maintained and provided impetus for

ing a feature in 35mm seemed an impossible

Dear Sir, In my review of the film N u m b e r 96 in your July Issue I referred to the poor quality of the blow-up to 3 5 m m a n d s a i d t h a t t hi s ‘‘emphasizes the inadequacies of local laboratory facilities.” Color­ film, the laboratory involved In the production at the 16mm stage has written to me pointing out that the blow-up to 35mm and the 35mm prints were done overseas. In this Instance I wish to set the record straight and apologize to Color­ film. Yours sincerely, Ken Quinneil

technical support from laboratories, sound stu­ dios, and production facilities. It has provided w orkforcrew s and actors, and atraining ground fortechnicians. These changes have then been adopted, and absorbed into our feature work.

All the first year’s issues reflected the 16mm bias of production at the time (due in part to the limited production experience of the editors).

There was quite a tradition of the 16 to

The magazine’s advertisements were also pre­

35mm blow-up especially in Melbourne with

dominately aimed at the users of 16mm equip­

Stork and Libido and a num berof other features

ment and remained so for many years. On the

shot in 16mm but released on 35mm. It fitted the

inside back page of issue one was Bleakly Gray

time well, just as Super 16 blow-ups have in

Corp.’s advertisment that promised, along with

recent years. The results, however, were very

the Arri 16 and 35BLs, that there was soon to be

different. When Ken Quinneil reviewed the movie

the new, ambidextrous-but-wait-for-it Arriflex

version of Number 96 in July 1974 (Fig. 1), he

16SR. By the time this camera took its hold on

tried hard to be nice.

the market (which it still maintains), we were shooting 35mm.

FIG 1

Number 96 is the first commercial feature I have ever encountered of which a reviewer could legitimately say, if he so desired, that it is out of focus. The blow up to 35mm from 16mm for theatrical presentation emphasises the inade­ quacies of local laboratory facilities. The whole “ look” of the film is appalling — garish, claustrophobic sets, the flat lighting and the poor colour quality actually make it physically difficult to watch. The acting is undirected in any meaningful way and remains pitched at the same general standard as that of the serial — which is OK for television but excruciating on the large screen. It has allowed Australia to see its 96 super-stars in colour before the arrival of colour television. That is the extent of its achievement.

The move to 35mm was well underway by the time the “Production Survey” section began to accurately report local production (rather than just the films that the editors knew about) in early 1975. There were 17 35mm features listed as in production, awaiting or in release. There were 27 16mm films listed of which only five orsix were of feature length. The num berof sponsored documentary or independent pro­ ductions in 16mm would have added to the total considerably, but the balance had obviously changed to 35mm for features.

distribution in 16mm outside of the Filmmakers Co-operative’s and university circuits. Produc­

FIG 2

Which then led to an apology to Colorfilm, in the December 1974 issue. (Fig. 2)

This was to cause a sudden shortage of equipment, crew and facilities. Productions were CINEMA

PAPERS

97 / 98

. 77

being finished at labs overseas and equipment

ing John Duigan’s Dimboola. Jack Clancy re­

was being brought into the country almost daily.

ported on the film during production. (Fig. 5) Ian Baker’s interview after the release of

To us, as readers, it seemed that the start of an American style of feature-film production (the

The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith mentions some

role model we somehow, without argument,

of the problems with anamorphic lenses and

assumed was the best) coincided with the use

some new lights that people were talking about

of th a t m ost A m e rica n of ca m e ra s, the

called HMIs. (Fig. 6)

Panavision reflex 35mm. The Panaflex pro­

Gillian Armstrong made the transition from

vided an alternative to the only other light

16mm to 35mm on M y B rilliant Career. Inter­

weight 35mm sync camera that was available,

viewed in M arch-April 1979, she was asked if

the Arri 35 BL

she found it difficult. (Fig 7.)

The use of the Panavision seemed to con­ firm that finally we were making Serious Fea­

FIG 6

“Pve always used Colorfilm ., their work is excellent.”

tures and the number of photos in the magazine

What sort of lights do you prefer for interior set-ups?

John McLean Director of Photography on The Cirs That Ate Paris

of the camera on the set were there to prove it,

I like to use big lights bounced wherever possible. I avoid direct light, although for the first time I was forced to use it just to get an aperture sufficient to solve a depth of field problem. We started out with the hope of using new HMI lights, but there were problems getting them together in time. We had already backed out of arc-lights, so we ended up using a wad of mini­ brutes.

even if the camera did dwarf everything else, as in this advertisment. (Fig. 3)

Colorfilm

The camera and equipment meant more

THE COMPLETE 35mm «N il 1Rmm ? ™ iin F .

than that, however, as an interview from the first issue with Peter W eir and the McElroys on location with the The Cars that Ate Paris tells.

and use of the lenses and equipment. There

(Fig. 4)

were many who preferred the 1:1.85 ratio

The options for sync sound use were limited. The choice of the Arri lie with a blimp such as

cropped frame. We had a whole new term inology to learn

the Cine 60 today seems unbelievably cum ber­

along with the new equipment, and

some. In July 1974, it was just part of the

whole we accepted or adapted the American

problems that Vince Monton faced when se­

and British jargon.

lecting equipment for the filming of Richard Franklin’s The True Story of Eskimo Nell.

on the

The experience of shooting widescreen was still new in 1978 when Tom Cowan was shoot-

How did you find working on 35mm for the first time?

FIG 5

No problem, except I am now spoilt and seduced by the 35mm screen and will find it hard going back to 16mm again. My g r e a t e st pro ble m was working with fixed lenses for the first time. I am extremely part­ icular about framing, and on 16 mm you can just zoom in and out to get the framing you want. With fixed lenses, however, you have to be much more specific. So, in the beginning, there were a lot of lens changes, and carting of tripods backwards and forwards to get the shot I wanted. But I soon learnt.

The choice of anamorphic widescreen formats as a way of again proving that this was Serious Filmmaking brought with it not just the

P A N A V IS IO N

problems of composition as Peter W eir men­ tioned, but also the differences in the quality FIG 4

P E T E R : Oh, it took me a long time to get used to it though I wouldn’t say that I’ve got it now. After all those years of 16 mm. this was a tremendous shock but I’m starting to learn a lot about it. The terrific thing about it was that I’ve always loved wide shots and I like details, par­ ticularly with humour. The wide shot always works so well for that sort of gag. Once you start cutting about you can often lose the joke because the audience is jarred slightly. It all becomes unsubtle. Panavision is just like your eye-sight masked off by hands placed at the side of your head. Th at’s the wider angle lens anyway. So you can have somebody over in the corner there doing something funny and your main ac­ tion going on over here and you can look between the two of them. It's so exciting.

FIG 7

The decision lo use Panavision was made after long discussion. It will add extra cost to an already reduced budget, but the decision has been, according to Duigan and Cowan, justified so far. They feel the wide frame is the most appropriate format for the crowd and group scenes, particularly the reception. If all those people who have seen the play, and felt themselves to be part of the action, co me to the f l m they will want something of the same sense of being involved. The wide frame enables the incidental characters to be included, and helps achieve the kind of breadth and density of composition which will bring this about. It is also ideal for the vast W immera landscapes and the country town’s spaciousness. Tom Cowan is very pleased with the effect of particular shots — one especially, a pub interior where the depth of field enables three layers of action to take place at different levels. I am reminded of Jacques Tati, the greatest living director of comedy fl m s, and Cowan agrees that this kind of effect is beautifully suited to visual comedy. T h e Panavision ca m e ra has not been without its problems, and director and cinema­ tographer have had to learn to master it. Fortunately, focus-puller Jan Kenny has a wide knowledge of Panavision and proved indispensable, especially in the early weeks of shooting.

FILM STOCKS. There was a long love/hate relationship with Eastman Kodak apparent in the magazine. The stocks were undoubtably the best available and, although it now appears almost unreasonable, the lack of any competition to force improve­ ments in technical development, service or price

TO ADVERTISE IN TECHNI CALI TI ES TELEPHONE (03) 429 5511

78

• CINEMA

PAPERS

9 7 / 9 8

FIG 8

There were alternative stocks around for

C I N E M A P A P E R S : Did you start with 35mm processing? W A T S O N : No, we started off with 16mm exclusively and didn’t start any 35mm till 1963. C I N E M A P A P E R S : Has the use of 35mm increased over the past 10 years? W A T S O N : No, I think it’s on the decrease. As emulsions improve and the need to keep costs down becomes more important 35mm will fall off except for theatrical feature release. At the same time there’s a tendency to use 16mm original and a 35mm blow-up release print. C I N E M A P A P E R S : Do you see much future in 16mm and Super 16mm blow-ups? W A T S O N : Yes, I think there’s a future in it. Emulsions are the only limitation, but I’m sure they’ll con­ tinue to improve.

mentioned the changes in film stock in his

black-and-white 16mm, some of which have

working life.

given the earlier films a “ unique” quality, as

The Kodak series went on to feature a wide

reported when Ross King was shooting Gillian

number of endorsements from Australian cin­

Arm strong’s One Hundred a Day. (Fig. 9)

ematographers. Kevin Wiggins was force de­

The only other major supplier of stock was

veloping 7242 Ektachrome for television news.

Agfa-Gevaert, the introduction of Fuji stock by

Robin Copping talked about Eliza Fraser and

Hanimex was a relatively late addition (first

the low light levels that were possible with the

advertised in February-March 1980 issue). Be­

new Super Speed lenses with 5247. Geoff

cause of this, it took a long time for Fuji to gain

Burton’s ad told of his use of filters on Storm

a share of the market.

Boy, Ian Baker on force processing to gain

In the first issue, AGFA had a full-colour

extra speed for interiors on The Chant of Jimmie

back-page ad that was to become black and

Blacksmith. Ross Nichols, like many others,

white for subsequent issues. Kodak had no advertisement printed in the first

Russell Boyd, Director or Photography on'Picnic at Hanging Rock’ talks about Kodak films

issue, but used a colour ad insert sheet. (Instead of a film-related product, the outside back cover was to feature a C.U.B. Crown Lager ad, until July 1 979, for 22 issues.) Agfa introduced Gevachrome 2 re­ versal stocks in 1975 and on the basis

was resented widely. In 1974, there were few other choices, and, for whatever reasons, the supply and delay by Kodak in releasing new stocks seemed at times arbitrary. The choice and availability of filmstock was to be the topic of ongoing discussion in many of the early inter­ Vince Monton asked VFL’s Peter Watson in January 1974 about a stock change that had taken place in the U.S. almost 12 months before, and of the tentative change to 35mm. (Fig. 8) For 16mm release at this time, we had shot 16m m

re v e rs a l,

such

as

rte color filr almost ur.heatd of s:

w hat w as a c o m p le te ly d iffe re n t processing run for the Agfa stocks. It

We A~f * a ll a b u t* u-rrrfsed of ' meJm.-n l^ n e d H S V N w D e p a rtm e n t :n 196-¿ a

must have been an expensive exer­ cise and financially unsuccessful, yet the experience was repeated when it introduced its first negative stock. The

views with the directors of photography.

m o s tly

of price convinced a few labs to install

7252

Ektachrome. It was slow and soft in contrast, and printed well onto 7387, and, yes, Kodak still processed the original. The television sta­ tions were a big market for 16mm reversal stocks, and the short processing turn-around times was attractive to many other filmmakers as well. There was considerable adjustment required when the obvious increase in quality forced the change to shooting negative with a workprint. FIG 9

C I N E M A PA PERS: What did you shoot it on?

ongoing success of Kodak EastNegarne

mancolor negative meant that if any­

P k u x 4i H a n * « ” ? R - x k w a s .. Com ing oí age Íof a ll o: u s F r->oi the v ía n I fe lt e had to capture the Tom R o b - rt s lig ht •* : 1>A u s tra lia n c o u n try s id e a n d 1 th in k - A c d id E a s tm a n 52¿7

one wanted to compete in the market for raw stock, they were forced to make

wth.

their stocks compatible with Kodak, at

e x p re s s *, w d m g iï. Y ■the gap

least in processing.

Kodak color films the key to creative expression.

The advertising of the different stocks then began to follow a formula. I don’t know if using the directors of pho­ tography in endorsement served to con­

K O D A K A u s tr a la s ia <P T Y L T D M o tio n P ic t u re Sc A u d io v is u a l Markers D iv is io n

vince any producers to use one stock against the other, but the Kodak ads

was shooting 7247 on corporate documenta­

were the only colour pages in Cinema Papersiot almost nine years and they became an integral

ries. Fie talked about Hospitals D on’t Burn. Don

part of magazine. That they were advertisments

McAlpine said that, to date, he had shot 554

for Kodak stock was obvious, but because of the

kilometres of film, mostly Eastman Color Nega­

pride we felt in the quality of the productions they

tive. Keith W agstaff said he required toughness

chose they certainly served their purpose in

in his stock for High Country, and later accuracy

improving the image of Kodak in Australia.

in reproducing the Australian landscape’s col­ ours for The Man from Snowy River. Dietmar

The advertisements featured a somewhat

A R M S T R O N G : We shot on rever­ sal, this funny stock from Ferrania that we got cheap. Ross was a bit worried about it, it’s a bit grey and the definition’s not really good.

selective who’s whom of the nextten years. The

Fills also needed accurate rendition for his

first of the ads that featured one particular

micro- cinematography.

filmm aker was with Russell Boyd (Fig. 10),

Then, maybe running out of Cinem atogra­

talking about Picnic at Hanging R o c k, the most

phers who would endorse the products (or more

technically-assured feature to that time. Boyd

likely in an attempt to counter the growing use

V

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PAPERS

97 / 98

a

£

f 1

. 79

of videotape for production for the advertising

ered. When Ken Hammond was recording The

FIG 12

market), there were a number of commercial

Cars that Ate Paris, he was asked about his

production people extolling the virtues of Kodak

equipment. (Fig. 14) The equalizing mixer was singled out as

stocks.

important, and in the April 1974 issue we saw a

Director Peter Cellier, who was long known

picture of it. (Fig. 15)

for his videotape work, said that there is a change in directing for film as opposed to tape. Mike

John P h illips recorded sound on John

Reed liked the time for decisions that film editing

M urray’s The Naked Bunyip, and Tim Burstall’s

gave compared to tape. David Deneen got a plug

Alvin Purple. On Eskimo Nell with his Nagra 4.2

in for his computer-controlled motion graphics

and that now w ell-known-to-readers Smith and

and multiple exposure of Eastman neg., at that

Cross mixer, waiting for the first dedicated fre ­

point giving an effect impossible to do with video.

quencies for radio mikes, he longed for a world

Robert Le Tet from Film House talked about a

without taxis.

“magic 10%” that came from shooting film, and

The importance of the role of the sound mixer

the happy marriage of tape and film. Henry

became obvious and we quickly built some su­

Crawford also spoke on the quality of the film

perstars. Peter Fenton was interviewed in July

Peter

1974, having in the previous 12 months mixed

Bowlay from Videolab (after one misprinted is­

Alvin Purple, Petersen, The Cars that ate Paris,

sue where his portrait appeared not opposite but

Inn of the Damned, Between Wars and Stone.

image, especially for television series.

A sim ilar importance was placed on the

on the inside back page) told us of the future of tape-to-film conversions (that wasn't realized for

have a competitor of note.

Australian composers of our first film scores.

another ten years). Pat Lovell talked of her

When Geoff Burton was shooting The Picture

The first to be interviewed was Michael Carlos,

relationship with Kodak and testing new stocks

Show Man, in the January 1977 issue he was

for features. Ray Beattie from Atlab talked about

comparing stylistic differences between the new

Carlos talked about his use of the computer

the lab as part of the team, and Russ Chapman

Eastmancolor 5247 stock and the earlier 5254.

to control the calculation of the click track points

from Kodak reassured us that his technical sup­

In the October issue of that year, the discussion

needed for scoring to the frame. The interview

port was a phone call away.

with Vince Monton was about which was the

reads a little like an advertisement, butthe change

What this series tells about the develop­

better stock, the English manufacture 5247 or

ments (often in the background) could be the

the Am erican? The discussion of the best

subject of its own article.

filmstock has continued through the years. As

A MATTER OF STYLE

the quality of stocks where subtly improved, the choice became one of availability, cost, personal

There was considerable discussion of where

preference of the director of photography, and

we were to look for an Australian cinem ato­

how the laboratories handled it.

graphic style. With characteristic honesty, Ian BakertalkedaboutadoptingTom Roberts’ paint­

THE LABS

ings as a lighting and color model for an Austral­

It was the laboratories that were to become the

ian “look” in the interview on shooting The

o th e rg re a tto p ico f conversation. Don McAlpine

Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith in January 1978.

commented on the change to professionalism

(Fig. 11)

in the laboratories, while on location for D on’s

It didn’t appear that the Tom Roberts’ look

Party. (Fig. 13)

was restricted to one stock. Peter James spent

Among the other advertisem ents in the

weeks testing stocks and processing before

magazine that improved the industries image,

deciding to shoot The Irishman on Gevacolor,

while promoting themselves, were the ads for

(Fig. 12) but the result proved the quality of the

Colorfilm and later Atlab. The Colorfilm ads

German stock without doubt. In spite of the

especially get my award as the best technical

small differences in processing that were re­

advertising in Cinema Papers.

quired, Kodak Eastmancolor was now seen to FIG 11

Are you influenced by the way Australian painters at various periods have played with the Australian light?

I am influenced by painters — particularly Australian painters. It’s actually funny, because everytime Fred and l do a shot we joke as to whom we are imitating. We did a sequence in a butchershop which we referred to as the Francis Bacon sequence, and every exterior sequence we did was Tom Roberts or somebody. There is a big shearing sequence and everybody screams out Tom Roberts when they see that. In fact, if Fred or I couldn’t come up with an artist we wanted to imitate on a particular shot, then we didn’t think the shot was worth doing. (Laughs.) 80

• CINEMA

The many changes in stocks and the prob­ lems of matching archive footage to achieve a

PAPERS

9 7 / 9 8

consistent colour release print was mentioned in an excellent production report on Newsfront in the first bi-monthly issue, October/November 1978.

SOUND Peter Beilby's sound recording background

in January 1979.

FIG 14

KEN HAM M OND Interviewed.

CINEMA PAPERS: Ken, could you tell us what sort of equipment you’re using? HAMMOND: Well, I’m using Nagra Mark IV recorders, Sennheiser 815 gun-mikes, that’s the long one, and Sennheiser 415’s, the shorter version with the broader pattern. We’ve mainly used the 815 on ex­ terior dialogue: it gives you a better1 presence on wide shots and helps to overcome problems with background noise. C I N E M A P A P E R S : Has the Panavision camera affected your recording techniques? HA M M O ND : Well, yes, sometimes. You can usually go for the side of frame with your mike, but the Panavision ratio of 2.35:1 makes this just about impossible. Even in medium close-ups your side of frame is going to be a hell of a long way from a person’s mouth, unless it’s one of those freak shots where the actor is on the side of the frame. On the whole, the Panavision camera is very good for sound, it’s very quiet.

ensured that the subject was always well cov­ FIG 13

What sort of stock are you using? Eastman 5247. But we very strongly considered using Agfa stock. Basically it was a question of costing and though this film is fully professional, it is low budget. We would have had a considerable sav­ ing by using Agfa, but unfortunate­ ly they weren’t carrying any 1000 footers. Is this the new Agfa reversal stock? Oh no, this is the Agfa stock that is compatible with the old East­ man 5251.

M aking sure it’s 4. Don M cAlpine with Spectra.

Would you have had any process­ ing problems with that Agfa in Sydney?

want this to sound like a bloody c o m m e r c i a l , they have been marvellous. My ex perience in Australia goes back a fair way, and to put it nicely the Australian labs There is a rumor that we would used to process film — full stop. have had, but I cleared it first with They weren’t concerned about what our lab. Anyway, the cost savings you were on about, or what part would have compensated for any they could take in the filmmaking hassles; but they didn’t have 1000s. process. Now that’s history. One thing I must say is thatWhen I went over to England to although 1 have only been with do the two Bazzas we worked Colorfilm on this job, and I don’t through Rank. We used to have a

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. 81

VIDEO

was indicative of the movement to recording

In the October 1977 issue was one of the

music tracks in a recording studio environment.

best “ Production R eport’s to ever appear In the

It happened with music and audio recording

magazine on the local special effects of The

issue said, in what must have appeared as the

Last Wave. (The story was compiled by Scott

start of many years of concern about video, “Of

first the computer had arrived.

The Kodak colour insert ad in the Nov/Dec 75

Murray on the work of Monte Fieguth and Bob

the two alternatives the better way for on-the-

SPECIAL EFFECTS

Hilditch.) Inthe June/July 1976 issue LesLuxford

spot, heat-of-the-moment, unrepeatable events

There were many classic early Hollywood spe­

talked about opticals for Chris Lofven’s OZ, and

is the film w ay.” It took ten years for the change

cial-effects techniques that we had to re-dis-

the work of Larry Wyner.

from film in ENG video for TV news, but the

cover, techniques that in our earlier years we

Conrad Rothman was brought out from

once had been able to do as well as anyone. In

America to do the special effects for Patrick

(When the assassination attempt was made

the first issue, there was an interview with Ken

(and stayed in Melbourne). The effects were

on Ronald Reagan, there were NO film cam ­

Hall where he talked about early special effects.

documented in full in the April/June 1978 issue.

eras covering the event. It was the newspapers

It was to be three years before the revolution

They include an air mortar, breakaway glass

and especially the news magazines that gave

in special effects that was brought about by

and the early use of Scotchlite for the effective

us the sharp, peak-of-action 35mm still camera

George Lucas’ Star Wars. It was 1982 before

radiator-in-the-bath sequence. As in many of

pictures. The video electronic blow-ups looked

the use of computer-controlled animation stands

the later technical descriptions, the unfam iliar­

like the Zapruder Super 8 footage of JFK ’s

and m otion-controlled cameras for model work

ity with the techniques made the descriptions

assasination. But ah, they were immediate,

had been used extensively here.

quite confused.

beamed by satellite, converted from NTSC, and on our screen within hours.)

Whether it was the type of movies we were making (period or landscape), or just the fear of

change was to be complete.

CAMERA MOUNTS

The first ad for video equipment in CP was

producers in doing optical effects here, it meant

In 1977, two unique camera mounts were ad­

for the Akai Portable VTR, a 1/4 Inch (8mm

that we became highly proficient at physical

vertised, first the Tyler, in the July issue, and,

wide) reel-to-reelsystem , and, a tth e tim e o f the

effects.

then in October, the Steadicam. (Figs 17, 18))

introduction of the 3/4 inch Sony U-matic fo r­ mat, it looked to be the future system for home

Professionals only argue < tw o things on the Bolex H 16 EBM.

FASHION IS PART OF THE CULTURE AND THE FILM INDUSTRY SETS ITS OWN. TWO EXAMPLES FROM THE PAGES OF THE 1970S.

and semi professional use. The 1/2 inch fo r­ mats prooved more robust, but were supplanted by the convenience of cassette-loading sys­ tems. It w asn’t until 1983 that there was an agreed standard for 1/4 inch or 8mm video. July/Aug 75. (Fig. 19) On the inside back page of that issue was a

Whether to fit the ¿00 foot magazine. And what lens to use. The Bolex H]6 is a complete filming system offering the ultimate in precision, yet as rugged as a lank. Profession­ als in all fields, from documentary work to research, recognise it as a basic tool for prod­ ucing clear, properly exposed film. The lop 4 quality optical system is only one o f the reasons for its supremacy. Ancillary equipment can be tailored exactly to your requirements - you don't waste money on gear you don't need The * motor is electronically regulated. Use film speeds of 10,18, 24, 25 or 50 fps. (24 and 25 fps are stabilised to sync pulse standards.) Reflex viewfinder. Magnification in the eyepiece is 14 x so you can see what you're doing. When you've decided about the magazine, all you have to argue aboui is your choice of those superb optics. If you want something more to argue about, take a look at the Bolex RX5, or the Bolex SBM, our spring motor models.

4

OLEX

dreadful piece of early 1970s typography an­ nouncing that Colorfilm was extending into video, and we saw for the first time the cryptic letters, CMX. This was the first really efficient way to edit videotape; AAV in Melbourne installed the first PAL version made. It took some time to convince film editors that this was an alternative and frame-accurate way of editing videotape. From my experience as an agency com m er­ cial’s producer at the time, it was revolutionary. It allowed the creative team from the agency to preview effects such as dissolves and otherfilm optical techniques instantly, w ithout the weeks of waiting for laboratories turn around. The saving in time has changed comm ercial pro­ duction permanently. Australians adopted video post-production much fasterthen they did in the

For colour brochures, write to Photimport CAust) Pty Ltd. 69 Nicholson Street. East Brunswick 3057

DEPEND ON IT

82

■ CINEMA

IT'S FROM PH0TIMP0RT

PAPERS

9 7 / 9 8

U.S. and U.K. From comm ercials to series work, the finish on tape became quickly accepted.

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There was for years a resentment by the film

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but effectively making deadlines shorter.

EDITING

editors at the way their arcane knowledge of the

The introduction of one-inch tape saw the

Les Luxford was cutting Chris Lofven’s OZ in

laboratory had been slighted, but there are now

start of a number of small yet broadcast-quality

early 1976 and spelled out a 90-degree turn in

few comm ercials completed on tape that do not

production companies and video-editing facili­

editing features. (Fig. 20)

have the agency representatives at the tape

ties. The two-inch machines have become the

edit session. It was the new, unique-to-video

dinosaurs in an evolving technology. The re­

not mean that the Moviolas were suddenly aban­

digital effects that made some sessions’ post­

sults currently being obtained from half-inch

doned. Many feature productions where to be

production by a committee. “Could you move

broadcast equipment, such as the Sony SP

cut on a mixture of both, and they still have

that super down a bit, make it sm aller and

Betacam and the new d igital form ats for

users. It was the speed and convenience of

colour it aqua with a drop shadow and show me

Betacam, D3, and D5, are another leap for­

video off-line systems that was to change the

what it looks like zooming out of the pack logo

ward. Component S-VHS and Hi-8 systems are

fortunes of the flat-bed manufacturers.

with perspective”, etc.

delivering the promise of high-quality, low-cost,

It was the growing sophistication of equip­

lig h tw e ig h t

ment leading to the rising cost of videotape

camcorders.

a lm o s t

b ro a d c a s t-s ta n d a rd

The preference for flat-bed editing tables did

ANIMATION David Deneen’s Sydney animation company,

facilities time that forced the growth of off-line

Articles on two different faces of television

systems that allowed previews of dissolves and

appeared in the December-January 1979-80

Film Graphics, was a consistent advertiser in the magazine.

DVE moves. At first, there were 3/4 inch U-

issue, as Cinema Papers tried to involve broad­

The discussion of Film Graphics motion

matics using visual time code, then edit-list

cast television in the magazine. There was an

graphics work years later (November-Decem-

management techniques such as locally devel­

article on the production of the Don Lane Show

ber 1981) showed the company's

oped Shotlister. Now Avid and Lightworks non­

and a report from Brian Walsh (an important

adapt to the demands and possibilities of the new technology.

linear systems have almost completely taken

figure in the growth of M elbourne’s Open Chan­

overfrom cassette-based systems, ideally mak­

nel) on the growth in community television in

ing more time available for creative decisions

America. The opening paragraphs of his article

Shoot direct and star in your own colourTVshow.

This is the completely portable A KA1 VTS-150 Colour Video Tape Recording System. The absolutely foolproof way to make your own movies. Simple to use, it consists of a camera, recorder and battery charger/AC Adaptor. Even a child can turn out professional results —every time. It’s lightweight and totally portable. You can use either a power point or the internal batteries to record your colour T.V. pictures and sound. Instant Replay: You can replay what you've just shot instantly through your home colour T.V. set. It’s just like home movies without waiting for your films to be developed. There is no limit to the things you can do with this system. Use it as a sales aid, for teaching, training personnel, medical lectures or simply as a live family album. Versatile Colour C am era: The VCS-150 colour camera is also available with a control unit for use with any other make of Pal system VTR or VCR. B u ilt-in Autom atic Edit: This great feature from AKAI allows you to cut cleanly from one scene to another. As well as colour we have portable black and white systems as well. It costs you nothing to look, so why not phone us and arrange for a demonstration or fill in and post the coupon below.

ability to

TELEVISION INTERFACE

are significant in the the

In the January-February 1981 issue there was

thinking and developm ent

the first part (of four) of an article that was “a

that are shaping television

technical series prepared by Kodak (Motion

today.

Pictures Division) in association with Cinema Papersf, called “The Film and Television Inter­ face” . I’m not sure who was responsible for the text but it must have been Cinema Papers who added

Does that mean you prefer to work on a flatbed?

the inane captions and sup­

Yes. Movieolas in their upright form are antiquated pieces of equipment, which, personally, I feel should be done away with.

was printed upside down).

plied the vague pictures (one of a wave form m onitor that

Was it then a question of cost or flatbed availability?

The New Products sec­ tion in that issue included a press release on the Bosch Fernseh FDL-60 Telecine. This was the firs t of the telecines to use a solid state

Both. It is very hard to hire anything other than a Movieola in Australia. Steenbecks are quicker and much more sophisticated, t h o u g h wi t h an a s s i s t a n t , Movieolas can be very quick. We probably couldn’t have cut Oz any quicker on a Steenbeck, but we wouldn’t have had so many broken sprockets and scratched frames.

CCD (Charge Coupled De­ vice) that scans one televi­ sion image line at a time into a digital fram e store. Be­ cause these single-line de­ vices did not allow for the use of pan and scan and optical enlargement, the in­ dustry leader has become the Rank Cintel URSA, using CINEMA

PAPERS

97 / 98

. 83

Neg Matching to Offline Edit or Cutting Copy

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84

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PAPERS

9 7 / 9 8

330 King Georges Ave, Singapore 0820 Phone: [65] 2917291 Fax: [65] 293 2141

optics and digital signal processing.

and was reported in July-August 1981. (Fig. 22)

tradeshows I attended, there were new video

Apparently in an attempt to resolve the dif­

The use of micro-computers built into film

splits, and modified camera doors. The adop­

ferent demands of writing for film and for televi­

equipment was increasing and this appeared in

tion was slow because the bulk of the equip­

sion (and to ca p tu re the g ro w in g video

an ad in the Septem ber-October 1981 issue,

ment was hired, it was hard for the rental

advertising), the one-off experim ent of Chan­

suggesting that their use would soon be wider.

companies to keep up with the pace of introduc­

nels magazine was tried. (Fig. 21) Inserted as a

T h e re

w as

an

in te rv ie w

w ith

D avid

tion of new higher quality video tubes, and then

free supplem ent in the April 1982 issue, it unfor­

Samuelson at the time of the introduction of the

CCD chips. As long as a low contrast flickering

tunately attracted none of the tape or video

Samcine Front projection rig to Australia. Front

video feed was accepted there was no pressure

equipment ads that would have made the maga­

projection was seen as the ideal way to avoid

to update. It is tempting to suggest that it suited

zine a financial proposition and seemed to be

the complexity of blue-screen matting, but, apart

the DOPs to have control over the only quality-

looking at a different readership altogetherfrom

from a few commercials, some overseas series

accurate image on set, the viewfinder. In some

Cinema Papers. The new products section in

work and some short use in movies like The

of the interviews this was stated openly but

Channels had items on High Definition TV, the

Return of Captain Invincible, it has given way to

again the impact of television commercial pro­

Sony Mavica electronic recording still camera,

the trend for digital post-production. There was

duction pushedforhigh quality, colourflickerfree

and one-piece camera recorders.

also an examination of the introduction of stereo

preview and replay. If people were shooting video it was assumed that the floor or location

The use of video-assisted view finders in

sound for features, and producing material for

film production made the developm ent of rigs

the interactive video disc. In the last issue

m onitor was going to give the director, producer

such as the Louma Crane possible. The first

before the temporary pause in publication, there

and clients an accurate representation of the

Australian use of the Louma was by Ian Baker

was a history of 3-D and a report on the system

final image. That it often introduced decision by

in Melbourne, for a videotape car commercial,

being used for Alex S titt’s animated feature,

committee and new protocols on set didn’t trans­

Abra Cadabra. (Fig. 23)

late immediately to film shoots. Today the de­ mand is for film cameras to provide a high

VIDEO SPLITS

quality video split and the future will see it

The impact of video on the

digitized and stored for non-linear off-line edit­

process of making features

ing. Video paved a path for the computer.

was covered only obliquely in

CP.

At each

of the

BELOW: THE RETIRING EDITOR AWARD FOR THE BEST TECHNICAL ADVERTISING IN THE LAST TWENTY YEARS GOES TO THE SERIES OF INTERVIEW STYLE COLORFILM ADS THAT RAN FROM 1980 TO 1981. THEY WERE PRODUCED BY LEO BURNETT SYDNEY. WOULD THE WRITERS PLEASE COME FORWARD TO ACCEPT THE AWARD?

CINEMA

PAPERS

9 7 / 9 8

. 85

FIG 2 4

FIG 2 5

MICROCHIP n innJ

(si)

IrLfd

a»

COMPUTERS IN FILM

style that began with the U.S. work of Bob Abel

was working with doing my ‘real’ work and an

The coverage of the com puter’s impact on film

for 7-UP), and was covered in the Nov/Dec.

editorial stance with our noses in the air has

and video production is really the story of the

1981 issue. (Fig. 16)

taken a lot of the fun away for me as editor. This

tions at each of the SMPTE trade shows I

THE PRESENT

fore I take on the task of revamping Australian

covered became a flood. Movies by Microchip

In 1992 Technicalities took on a New Look.

M ultiM edia magazine. I’m still looking forward

was the headline for a string of issues looking at

(Fig. 26) Acknowledging the emphasis that video

to subm itting articles to the new editor, but will

the impact of the computer. (Figs 24, 25) At first

and digital post had taken in this section be­

be concentrating on covering the story of the

it was in scriptwriting, the w ordprocessor was a

cause of my own interests, we decided to con­

digital convergence of computers, telecom m u­

is my last edition as “Technicalities” editor be­

last five years of “Technicalities” . Small men­

natural with on disk storage that made the

centrate on film. Magazines such as Encore

nications, television, and entertianm ent. It will

process of script alterations and revisions easier.

were doing a good job of covering the video

also give me time to finish the book that Dominic

B u dg e ting and a cco u n tin g em braced the

scene and were faster because of their fo rt­

Case and I are writing about twenty years of

spreadsheet and we soon saw attempts at pack­

nightly publication schedule. The advertisers

technical change in the industry for the AFC. It

ages that did everything. The search for one-

responded to the change and I adopted a supe­

will be a bit like this article but with its teeth in.

piece-does-all software was covered in the May

rior attitude to video unless it was part of feature

Thanks for reading and good night.

1985 issue. Starting from the script which was

filmmaking. The tension between the tools I

Fred Harden

already in the computer it seemed a natural step to be able to do a breakdown, then sched­

FIG 2 6

uling and integrate these into the budget and accounting. In such a small niche market it proved im­ practical to market and support the products and the Mac vs IBM platform standards frac­ tured the m arket further. As people became more computer literate they managed to use the growing sophistication of individual soft­ ware packages rather than looking for one so­ lution. The comm ercial companies that were producing quotes daily are the only groups who seemed eager for budget packages. As the use of computers became comm on­ place, we covered com puter motion control rigs for special effects use (the Mirage effects ad shown was placed at the peak of that com pa­ ny’s work on the best Australian effects film The Time Guardian), and in control of animation stands. Accurate m echanically repeatable re­ sults were a natural application and David Deneen’s Film Graphics ruled when it came to their Motion Graphics work for commercials, (a

86

• CINEMA

PAPERS

9 7 / 9 8

Introduction Welcome to the new-look "Technicalities-. Ever get the feeling that you're irrelevant? Somewhere along the way to keeping up with the latest technologies In Image-making, this section ol the magazine had lost the plot. TT*e 'plot', as I read It, Is that this is a technical-based section of a -cinema' magazine, and a magazine where the readership Is wider then the small group of people associated with the Australian film and television Industry. But If it is not relevant to them, there is nowhere else to turn. C/nema Papers is It. So if you detect a drift away from video and computer articles towards more film-based information. It Is entirely Intentional. There are other magazines that cover those areas (and I voraciously read them all), but this Is going to be a technical section lor filmmakers and users. From inside looking out at the film-based technology of cinema, there is noneof the explosive growth of video and computers technology. The changes have been small, continual and cosmetic, with fltty-year-old hardware still being used. But there is a wind of change and it is the example Is the new ARBI S35. pictured below. Also, see Arri technological highlights on p. 62.) It Is a commercial reality that the delivery format of most film images will eventually be on video. Computer and digital processing will allow for higher resolution video and broadcasi techniques (HOTV) to be developed, but. In the practical real world, the effect has been 10 poml

S u p er 1 6 The Australian Experience

How im portant is your com puter system to your business? We supply systems to some of the top art studios, production houses and animators in Melbourne and Sydney...people who need their systems to be working all the time...without fail. If you want a powerful, reliable system to run high­ end animation software or high-end graphics appli­ cations make sure you talk to us. Call 03-8276987 and speak to Nicholas Bovell. YARRABANK RESOURCES 80 R IV E R S T RE E T S O U T H Y A R R A 3141 P H O N E 0 3 - 8 2 7 69 8 7 F A X 0 3 - 8 2 4 1876

CINEMA

PAPERS

9 7 / 9 8

. 87

Ni ne

Critics’

Best

and

Worst

A PANEL OF NINE 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: BILL COLLINS (NETWORK 10; DAILY MIRROR, SYDNEY); SANDRA HALL (THE BULLETIN); PAUL HARRIS ( “ EG” , THE AGE; 3RRR); IVAN HUTCHINSON (SEVEN NETWORK; HERALD-SUN); STAN JAMES (THE ADELAIDE

FILM TITLE D i r e c t o r

BILL COLLINS

SANDRA HALL

PAUL HARRIS

IVAN HUTCHINSON

STAN JAMES

NEIL JILLETT

SCOTT MURRAY

TOM RYAN

EVAN WILLIAMS

AVERAGE

ADVERTISER); NEIL JILLETT (THE AGE); SCOTT MURRAY; TOM RYAN (THE SUNDAY AGE); AND EVAN WILLIAMS (THE AUSTRALIAN).

THE AGE OF INNOCENCE M a r t i n S c o r s e s e

9

9

6

10

8

8

5

10

9

8.2

8

8

6

9

9

8

-

7

8

7.9

BEETHOVEN’ S 2N D I v a n R e i t m a n

5

-

-

5

4

2

-

-

2

3.6

BELLE EPOQUE F e r n a n d o T r u e b a

-

-

4

7

-

7

-

6

-

6

BEVERLY H ILLBILLIES P e n e l o p e S h e e r i s

5

1

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3

5

-

3

-

3.7

BROKEN H IG H W AY L a u r i e M c l n n e s

-

5

2

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1

2

-

-

2.5

C AR LITO ’ S W AY B r i a n D e P a l m a

-

7

6

7

-

4

-

7

-

6.2

FATAL IN STIN C T C a r l R e i n e r

-

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3

J

4

2

-

-

-

3

FLESH AN D BONE S t e v e K l o v e s

-

6

6

6

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4

-

-

-

5.5

FREE W ILLY S i m o n W i n c e r

-

-

6

5

7

-

7

6

-

6.2

HEAVEN AND EARTH O l i v e r S t o n e

7

5

2

4

7

-

-

-

6

5.2

JOY LUCK CLUB W a y n e W a n g

8

9

-

-

-

-

8

-

-

8.3

M AC J o h n T u r t u r r o

-

7

4

6

-

6

-

6

6

5.8

MRS DOUBTFIRE C h r i s t o p h e r C o l u m b u s

7

7

1

7

9

4

6

0

5

5.1

NAKED M i k e L e i g h

-

7

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9

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7

A PERFECT W ORLD C l i n t E a s t w o o d

-

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6.3

THE R EM AIN S OF THE DAY J a m e s I v o r y

9

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7.3

ROBIN H OO D: MEN IN TIGHTS M e l B r o o k s

-

1

0

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0

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1

2

SC HIN DLER ’ S LIST S t e v e n S p i e l b e r g

9

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9

SH ADO W LAND S R i c h a r d A t t e n b o r o u g h

9

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-

8

7.5

THE SNAPPER S t e p h e n F r e a r s

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-

oo 's©

THE THREE MUSKETEERS S t e p h e n H e r e k

2

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0

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-

3.6

TOMBSTONE G e o r g e P a n C o s m a t o s

4

6

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7

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-

4

4.9

TOUS LES M A TIN S DU MONDE A l a i n C o r n e a u

8

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9

7

8

6.8

TRUE ROMANCE T o n y S c o t t

-

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2

-

3

-

4.4

W EDDING BANQUET Ang L e e

7

7

5

7

9

7

7

6

7

6.9

BAW ANG BIE

88

• CINEMA

j l (F A R E W E L L M Y C O N C U B IN E ) C h e n

PAPERS

9 7 / 9 8

K aige

T

T

T T

R

e

I

e

a

s

I n t r o d u c i n g the EASTMAN

e

f i l m system. For the fi r s t t i m e , there

y

o

u

r is a direct l i n k between your ideas

V

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and

audiences

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Because

wi th the a d d i t i o n of EXR color p r i n t

f i l m , the t e c h n o l o g y of the EXR f i l m

family

now

lives w i t h i n

of

the

to

interm ediate

EASTMAN

process — from

EXR

to

film

every step

negative

release.

system.

The

T hi nk

of it as a proj ector for your mind.

Eastman

Motion Picture System

Call 0 0 8 3 3 7 935 ,

for m o re in fo rm a tio n .

Eastman Kodak Company, 1993. Eastman and EXR are trademarks.

Find out wliy so many film editors

amusing our Emmy Award winning system Congratulations to Frameworks, Kennedy Miller and Mike Reed Post Product-

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