Cinema paperS No.101 October 1994

COVER: G IA CARIDES IN BEN LEWIN’S 'LUC KY BREAK*

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S T E P H A N E L L I O T T 'S ‘ P R IS C IL L A , Q U E E N O F T H E D E S E R T* V I C T O R I A N S U P P L E M E N T : ‘ M u r i e l ’ s w e d d i n g ’ / ‘ LUCKY b r e a k ’ A N D : ‘ONLY THE BRAVE’ / ‘ BAD BOY BUBBY’ / ‘ COUNTRY LIFE’ A U S TR A LIA ’S J^R S T FILM S: FILMING FEDERATION

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X T I 00, X T R 2 5 0 , X T S 4 0 0 C olou r N egative Films

NYPD Blue is a great show to shoot because we’ve practically thrown out the rule book. The camera itself is a voy­ euristic character. To pump up the grit and realism, I use tons o f edge light and virtually no fill. The film that lets me do this is AGFA XTR 250. It’s a low er contrast film, yet it ’s razor sharp and has a great tonal range. XTR 250 lets me light by eye and not w o rry about fill levels or blown-out windows. I really believe it's one of the best films fo r telecine transfer.

When I'm done shoot­ ing, th e re ’s a nice fat negative fo r post-pro­ duction, which gives me a lot of latitude. I’m not locked into heavy colour saturation, and the low­ er contrast gives me I

! Brian

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D ire c to r of Photography

total control over the

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blacks and highlights.

AGFA XTR 250 helps me work faster and with more confidence. And, most im portantly, it looks great.

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Motion Picture Division 875 Pacific Highway Pymble NSW 2073 Phone (02) 391 6611 Fax (02) 391 6699

CIN OCTOBER

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BRIEFLY STEPHAN ELLIOTT: THE ADVENTURES OF PRISCILLA, QUEEN OF THE DESERT Interview by Jan Epstein

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TERENCE STAMP

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FILMS WE LOVE

Interview by Jan Epstein John Conomos, Tom O’Regan, Lorraine Mortimer, Raffaele Caputo

VICTORIA supplement 22

JENIFER HOOKS AND CHRIS FITCHETT: FILM VICTORIA

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P. J. HOGAN: MURIEL'S WEDDING

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ONLY THE BRAVE

Interview by Scott Murray

Interview by Jan Epstein

Article by Anna Dzenis

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BEN LEWIN: LUCKY BREAK

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TECHNICALITIES

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AUSTRALIA’ S FIRST FILMS: FEDERATION FILM

Dominic

Interview by Andrew L. Urban

Case

Part 10 of a continuing historical feature by Chris Long

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FILM REVIEWS

Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert and Frauds Monica Zetlin and David Vallence; Bad Boy

Bubby Anna Dzenis; Country Life Monica Zetlin; Hammers Over the Anvil Fincina Hopgood; The Roly Poly Man Peter Malone; Traps Scott Murray

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ROLF DE HEER

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SYDNEY FILM FESTIVAL

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MELBOURNE FILM FESTIVAL

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LEGAL

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PRODUCTION SURVEY

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TENEBRICOSE TEN

Interview by Andrew L. Urban Notes by Raymond Younis John Foam

Lloyd Hart

DOMINIC CASE is a motion picture technical consultant; JOHN CONOMOS lectures at the College of Fine Arts, University of NSW, Sydney; ANNA DZENIS is a tutor in Cinema Studies at LaTrobe University; JAN EPSTEIN is the film reporter for The Melbournian; JOHN FOAM is a

film buff with a special interest in Italian Cinema; LLOYD HART is a principal of the law firm Hart & Spira and has for more than 13 years acted for Film Finances Inc.; FINCINA HOPGOOD is senior editor of Ormond Papers 1993 and a contributor 1991-94; CHRIS LONG is a Melbourne film historian; PETER MALONE is editor of Compass Theology Review; LORRAINE MORTIMER is a lecturer in Cinema Studies at LaTrobe University; TOM O’REGAN is a senior lecturer in Communications at Murdoch University and the co-editor of Continuum; ANDREW L. URBAN is the Australian representative for Moving Pictures International; DAVID VALLENCE co-hosts the film show on 3CR; RAYMOND YOUNIS is a lecturer at the University of Sydney and a passionate lover of films; MONICA ZETLIN co-hosts the film show on 3CR.

Editor: Scott Murray; Assistant Editor: Raffaele Caputo; Technical Editor: Dominic Case; Advertising: Barry Telfer; Subscriptions: Raffaele Caputo; MTV Board of Directors: Chris Stewart (Chairman), Patricia Amad, Ross Dimsey, Diana Gribble, Natalie Miller; Legal Adviser: Dan Pearce, Holding Redlich, COMMISSION

Solicitors; Design: Ian Robertson and 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 approximately 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 Film Victoria.

B R I E F L Y Letters

(ARIA). He has made documentaries and pro­

facilities, consolidate its staff on two levels and

Dear Editor,

duced the shorts, The Blonde’s Date with Death

In the Ken G. Hall obituary by Neil McDonald

and Frankie and Johnny.

provide a higher standard of theatre viewing, to­ gether with a shop-front marketing capacity. Ireland:

[Cinema Papers, No. 99, June 1994], there is an

Gene Conkie worked with Hillcoat on the screen­

error in one of the photo captions, pages 14-15.

play of Ghosts ... of the Civil Dead, which was

The rôle of P. G. “Bill” Taylor (later Sir Gordon

nominated for an AFI Award. He has written short

Taylor) is credited to Grant Taylor. In fact, P. G.

films and two other feature film screenplays: Ad­

Taylor played himself as did William “Billy” Morris

dicted! and Elvis’s Little Finger.

Hughes and John Stannage.

Denise Patience was co-producer of the fea­

Bill Constable

ture film Aya, associate producer of the feature

Senior Lecturer

Eightball and producer of the short film / See ...

School of Communication & Cultural Studies

Said the Blind Man. She recently co-produced the

Curtin University of Technology, WA.

documentary The Tenth Dancer, which won a Silver Plaque Award at the 1993 Chicago Interna­ tional Film Festival and an Australian Teachers of

2nd International Short Film Festival Flickerfest is pleased to announce that its very popular Outdoor Short Film Festival will be extend­ ing beyond its regular home base of Bondi Beach to include a tour of Perth, Brisbane and Canberra.

Festival director Craig Kirkwood said: “Short Pop­ pies, the student festival, has been touring suc­ cessfully around the country, so we decided to take the Outdoor Festival on the road as well.”

The unique festival will eventually make it to Darwin, but Melbourne looks unlikely. Kirkwood: “The weather just can’t be relied on, and movies under the stars aren’t much fun without the stars.”

Entries must be under 40 minutes in length and should be submitted on a VHS preview cassette.

Media (ATOM) award. Patience is currently pro­ ducing another documentary, Cuba Libre, for SBS television. Her association with Hillcoat began when she was production manager on Ghosts... of the Civil Dead.

Southern Star is the sales agent for The Small Man and the local distributor is Palace Entertain­ ment. The film will be shot in Queensland and Papua New Guinea early next year.

The other three projects in the FFC’s Fourth Film Fund are Spider & Rose (Bill Bennett), CoJntry Life (Michael Blakemore) and Angel Baby (Michael Rymer).

Australian Film Commission

There was an existing theatre structure already in place, which we have improved. It was a deciding factor in choosing the William Street site. The theatre will be located on the ground floor of the new premises, and will seat up to 50 people. Viewing capabilities will be improved and enlarged with the inclusion of raked seat­ ing, a quality sound system, larger screen and upgraded lenses.

Film Victoria On 9 August, Film Victoria announced the appoint­ ment of Michael Laker as the new Government Film Unit Manager.

In his rôle, Laker will be primarily responsible for the development, maintenance and promotion of relationships with government departments and agencies, providing them with information relating to the services and skills available in the Victorian film and television production community. Jenifer Hooks, Director of Film Victoria, said: Michael will provide advice to government de­ partments and agencies on the production of a range of audio-visual projects, and broker projects between government and private-sec­ tor departments and production companies appropriate to their needs. He will also act as executive producer for selected government projects.

On 18 July, Cathy Robinson, Chief Executive of the Australian Film Commission (AFC), announced the appointment of Michael Ward to the position of Policy Adviser. Prior to his commencement at the AFC, Ward was an independent consultant and writer focussing on film and television policy and research.

the Department of Agriculture as Manager of Cli­ ent Services with Agmedia, and, prior to that, within the Department as Manager of Video Serv­

The Australian Film Finance Corporation (FFC) has announced a fourth project will go ahead as

Ward is a former head of the Western Austral­ ian Film and Television Institute, which is one of Australia’s largest screen cultural organizations, active in production support and development, distribution and exhibition.

ices. While at the Department, Laker achieved several highly commended international certifi­ cates and won best industrial film at the Hollywood International Film Awards for his production of AUSCATS.

part of the Fourth Film Fund: The Small Man, to be directed by John Hillcoat and produced by Denise

Ward also has extensive policy experience within the public sector, having worked in eco­

Patience from a script by Gene Conkie.

nomic and cultural policy planning and develop­ ment in the Western Australian Ministry of Premier

Australian Film Institute

The Small Man is a contemporary melodrama set in Papua New Guinea, based on an original

and Cabinet, and industry policy in other public

idea by Hillcoat. The FFC’s Chief Executive, John Morris, said:

sector agencies.

tigerforthe 1990s. International film festival awards are anticipating an imminent break into the art-

Entry forms can be picked up from the Dendy Cin­ emas; Remo, Oxford St; and The Bondi Pavilion; or, one can ring (02) 251 4960 and ask for a form to be mailed. Entries close 5pm, 31 October 1994.

Film Finance Corporation: The Small Man for the Fourth Film Fund

Ward’s experience includes involvement in the recent review of Western Australian film support

This is a story of obsession, of political and emotional tension, in a white community iso­ lated from European civilization. It is a powerful

and he was an executive member of the National Screen Cultural Network.

story and I am happy with our decision to allow

Ward is convener of the Western Australian Film and Television Industry Federation, and a

time for the script to reach the project’s full potential.

The Small Man is about an expatriate, living in Papua New Guinea, who falls in love with a woman who rekindles memories of his dead wife. When he takes her to a tropical jungle home she discovers that he has a past - a past he can neither forgive

member of the state’s International Children’s Film and Television Festival Working Party.

In May 1994, the Australian Film Commission completed negotiations for a move to new premises in 150-162 William Street, Darlinghurst. The build­ ing previously housed the Australian Broadcasting

nor forget. Kerry Fox will play the female lead role.

Commission and has recently been upgraded. The AFC has leased part of the ground floor and two

John Hillcoat wrote and directed the 1988 fea­ ture Ghosts... of the Civil Dead. Since then he has

levels of the building for a term of 10 years. Relo­ cation occurred during August.

directed and edited music videos for such artists as INXS, Nick Cave and Crowded House, for which

Kim Ireland, Corporate Lawyer for the Australian Film Commission, said that the move will allow the

he won an Australian Recording Industry Award

AFC to make significant savings, upgrade its office

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Michael Laker was most recently employed by

Korean cinema is emerging as the Asian screen

house circuit, as well as m otivating major retrospectives, such as last year’s 85-film show­ case at the Pompidou Centre in Paris and a similar event this year at New York’s Museum of Modern Art. In November this year, Australian audiences will have the opportunity to catch this latest new wave when the Australian Film Institute presents “Our Brilliant Korea: New Korea, New Cinema” .

The programme of eight features and two short films made since 1990 has special significance for Australian audiences: the dramatic socio-economic transformation stimulating the Republic of Korea’s cinema has also made the country one of Austral­ ia’s most important, but little understood, partners in the Asia-Pacific region.

Korea possesses the tenth largest economy in C O N T IN U E S O N P A G E 71

SBS Independent Commissioning Australian Production

Attention Independent Documentary Makers SBS Independent in vites d o cu m e n ta ry program m akers to s u b m it proposals fo r con sid e ra tio n as part o f its 1994-95 p ro d u ctio n slate.

The p ro gram s should be targeted to the p rim e -tim e do cu m e n ta ry slots in the SBS schedule, w h ich are The C u tting Edge, A b o u t Us, People and M asterpiece. These generic title s have the capacity to deal w ith a w id e range o f social issues.

The proposals shou ld reflect aspects o f A u stra lia 's p lu ra list society, and shou ld be fo rw a rd looking, not retrospective. A p p lica n ts are encouraged to deal w ith issues in p o sitive and in n o va tive ways. The program s should be relevant and accessible to a w id e audience, and use creative approaches th a t tre a t co m p le x questions.

The proposals shou ld provoke th o u g h t, ask questions and seek answers.

SBS w ill w ish to see a clear reflection o f its charter in the issues treated in the proposal as w e ll as an active engagem ent in the de ve lo p m e n t o f NESB ta le n t both on and o ff cam era. A p p lica n ts are advised to give these require m en ts fu ll consideration .

Up to ten (10) proposals w ill be accepted. U nder the SBS/FFC D ocum entary A ccord, SBS w ill o ffe r the successful applicants a cash pre-sale w h ich w ill be 25% o f the agreed p ro d u ctio n budget w h ich w ill q u a lify th e ir p ro d u ctio n fo r co n sid e ra tio n by the FFC fo r fu n d in g . The bud get ce ilin g is set at $190,000. H igher budgets w ill o n ly be considered in exceptional circum stances. A p p lica n ts should include all FFC cost re quire m en ts w ith in th e ir budget.

To q u a lify fo r co n sideration , applicants m ust enclose a one-page covering le tte r w h ich explains the proje ct and w h y it is a p p ro p ria te to SBS, a tre a tm e n t, a co m prehen sive budget breakdow n, a proposed p ro d u ctio n schedule, CV's o f the producer, d ire c to r and w rite r, and all s u p p o rtin g and relevant d o cu m e n ta tio n .

No d o cu m e n ta tio n w ill be accepted after the clo sing date, w h ich is no la ter than 31 O ctober 1994.

A n y ap p lica n t m ay send m ore than one su b m issio n , but each shou ld be typ e d and separately packaged. Receipt o f su b m issions w ill be acknow ledged by m ail.

CONTACT OFFICER

G eoff Barnes

Telephone (02) 430 3627

Executive Producer

Facsim ile (02) 430 3865

SBS Independent Locked Bag 028 Crow s Nest NSW 2065

CINEMA

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I N T E R V I E W E D BY JAN EPSTEIN

CINEMA

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The w o rld is d ro w n in g in polities We are not allowed to laugh any m ore at bad jokes, o r practical hum our. [ ...] That really annoys me, particularly w ith gay issues.

I am. It’s a difficult movie. It’s so tasteless. There are scenes that so push the envelope.

I actually found it rather wholesome, with a cute image and nice values.

TICK (HUGO WEAVING), THE ADVENTURES OF PRISCILLA, QUEEN OF THE DESERT.

Priscilla, as nearly everyone in Australia presumably knows by now, tells the story of two drag queens and one transsexual as they travel across half of Australia to climb a rock and put on a show at an outback resort.

Written and directed by Elliott, whose first feature Frauds was also released in Australia this year, Priscilla stars Terence Stamp (as Bernadette), Hugo Weaving (Tick), Guy Pearce (Adam) and Bill Hunter (Bob).

PAR T 1 : RECORDED IN CANNES, M A Y 1 9 9 4 , THE DAY AFTER P R IS C IL L A 1S M ID N IG H T SCREENING IN UN C ERTAIN REG ARD.

It was great fun last night.

Yes. The midnight screening is the funniest, but it’s also one of the hardest. It’s tough having to be there still watching a movie at 2 o’clock in the morning. I’ve fallen asleep in every single midnight screening I’ve been to. I even fell asleep in Strictly B allroom [Baz Luhrmann, 1993].

You did not!

I did! I was so tired.

One doubts anyone fell asleep last night.

No, but there was a moment where it was quite tough for them.

I could see it.

At the San Francisco Film Festival the week before, it was just amazing. People pulled the seats up and just went crazy.

I came to Cannes expecting the same thing, but didn’t get it.

It was much more subdued and polite. The film worked on a different level - the emotional. In San Fran, they laughed at all the jokes and had a fabulous time. Here, you could hear the moments when the drama was happening: “AIDS fuckers go home”, Bernadette and Bob’s love scene, things like that. There was stunned silence. I wasn’t sure how it was going down, but the ovation afterwards was such a lift-up.

This morning, everybody has been saying the same thing: that it’s a genuine surprise. They all thought it was going to be a flatout comedy and what they got was a touching film.

But isn’t this the sort of audience you are aiming at - middle-ofthe-road, with an emphasis on young people?

Yes, you’re right, because the gay audience is going to champion it anyway.

We are going to have another screening this afternoon at 6pm.

It will be a different audience to last night and a really good test.

I’m desperate to see how it works with a real crowd.

You sound a bit anxious.

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But what about: “Now listen here you mamet. Why don’t you light your tampon and blow your box apart, ’cause it’s the only bang you’re eyer going to get. ” ? T hat’s an appalling line!

But it’s delivered with gay cattiness and people will respond to that more than the shock value.

They’ll forgive it. You’re right.

The big thing about it is the humour. At a screening we had for an Australian audience, they laughed at all the Australianisms.

The Americans laughed too, but at different jokes. There is a line where Tick says, “Bernadette has left her cake out in the rain ...”

Last night, they didn’t get it, whereas the Americans laughed for ten minutes.

So, it’s going to change territory to territory, like Strictly B allroom . It was a different film in different territories and it wasn’t even humour-based.

You touch on why your characters are the way they are in a very light-handed way. Were you concerned that going deeper might make it into a different film?

Yes. The world is drowning in politics. We are not allowed to laugh any more at bad jokes, or practical humour. (That was the subtext of Frauds, to o .) That really annoys me, particularly with gay issues. Any film that’s gay themed is drowning in its own politics.

I originally went to the Mardi Gras people in Sydney to see about props that we could hire. They were really excited. But when they read the script, they threw it back at us and said they didn’t want anything to do with it: “It’s racist. It’s sexist. It portrays queers in a bad light”, and on and on. Politics!

The transsexual sees herself as a woman and is more subdued in her costuming than the other two, who have this drag grotesqueness.

We are looking at two generations of drag within the film.

Bernadette is from the old world of trying to be women, whereas drag has taken over. It’s stepped beyond that, particularly in Sydney. It is the world leader, though it’s happening now in the States and elsewhere.

Drag has nothing to do any more with being a woman. They are still doing caricatures because that’s what’s left of the old tradition, but it’s getting so surreal. It’s like cabaret acts now.

Hugo Weaving says in the production notes, “It’s liberating to dress up.” W hat’s the kick for a male in all that imitation femaleness?

In Sydney, I had Hugo, Guy and Terence done up in the most grotesque drag and then we went wandering around the town.

People knew that they weren’t women, but they didn’t know who they were. Guy said to one guy, “Ah, get me a fucking drink and a cigarette.” The guy laughed and went and got him a drink and a cigarette. Now the real Guy Pearce would never be able to do

BERNADETTE (TERENCE STAMP) AND TICK, THE ADVENTURES OF PRISCILLA. QUEEN OF THE DESERT.

that, because he is Guy Pearce. But these carica­ tures are like cartoons and everyone loves them.

B u t it still doesn’t explain why we need a mask to be ourselves.

T h at’s life; that’s society. I’d love to be myself, but I can’t.

Frauds is also about this need to be let out, to be naughty: “It’s wrong, but why am I having such a good time doing it?” It’s the same thing. It’s the need to “Go fuck!”

How was the reaction to F ra u d s at Cannes last year compared to P r isc illa ?

Ambivalent. Last year, there was a big effort from Gilles Jacob to put comedy into Compétition. There was Splitting H eirs, Eric Idle’s film, mine and one other. They all flopped. The critics didn’t want them. They wanted T h e P iano [Jane C am pion 1993] an d F arew ell M y C on cu bin e [B aw ang B ie J i, ChenKaige, 1993].

Gilles has said that what he did with me last year was a big gamble. He was trying to give the Festival some life, but it bit him in the bum very badly. The backlash of that was what I thought was a very dull Festival this year. The Compétition films were all terribly long, terribly dark and terribly serious. Frauds created a backlash which was this year’s mega-safe Festival.

This year, the Festival said to me, “We love your film, but we cannot put it in Compétition. W e don’t want comedy.” And I said, “T h at’s fine. I don’t want to cop a beating like I did last year for making a funny film. If I’d known that, I would never have put it forward for Com pétition.”

W hat do you see as your direction after this? Are you going to pursue the same area and become the new e n fa n t ter r ib le ?

It’s getting very crowded in the cradle with all the enfants terrible.

You don’t see yourself like that?

Sure. I’ll never be able to do anything normal.

For instance, I want to do a film based on a short story by Ayn Rand, who is one of my favourite American writers. It’s the only short story I’ve ever read that has made me cry. In fact, everyone I’ve given it to has also burst into tears. But I’m not ready to do that project yet. I’m not old enough.

W hich filmmakers do you like? Did T h e H u d su ck er P rox y [Joel Coen, 1994] do anything for you?

Nothing whatsoever. I found it very distant, like all the Coen brothers films. You are not in them; you’re watching from the distance. It was supposed to be a comedy, but it’s not very funny.

W hom, then, do you admire?

A really Strange blend of people. I love Francis Coppola. If there’s a hero, it has to be Francis.

Luis Bunuel has been a huge influence and will continue to be.

I also adore John W aters and Steven Spielberg movies.

But the big influence, I have to say, is cartoons. I love all the grotesquery, all those primary colours. Look at H u dsu cker: it is all subtle till along come the hoola hoops and the primary colours

come up. I was like out of my seat, my eyes glowing. But then it went away again.

PAR T 2 : RECORDED BY PHO NE IN A U S T R A L IA , 1 3 JULY 1 9 9 4 , THE D A Y AFTER E LLIO TT RETURNED FROM THE U .S .

How is it going?

It’s completely insane. I thought Cannes would be crazy and then it would slow down, but it’s getting worse. Priscilla fever has hit America in a very, very big way.

When will it open there?

They are racing to get us open on August 7 . 1 have to do this video clip tomorrow and then I’m flying out to do 26 cities in 26 days.

We are going to open pretty wide by the looks of things. We got three pages the other day in the LA T im es: “Will Priscilla be the Camp Movie to break M ainstream ?”

Now how do you feel about it being called a “camp movie” ?

I don’t like it at all, and I try my absolute damnedest to steer people away from that. But, at the end of the day, it is a camp movie, about camp characters.

The reason it’s going to get called a gay movie is because the gay scene is completely encompassing it. It’s like their baby. I didn’t even know till today that Gramercy decided to screen it at the LA Gay and Lesbian Film Festival. Apparently, the reaction was fantastic. It got a standing ovation and people went mad.

All the gay trades are saying, “This is going to be the big one that will bring gay lifestyles into a m ainstream.” I can’t really stop that, now that it’s happening.

In Cannes, Alan Finney of Roadshow suggested that the Austral­ ian premiere should occur in Tasm ania, be opened by Fred Nile and be sponsored by Cadburys.

[Laughs.] Alan’s a funny man, a funny man.

Do you think Australia is ready for P risc illa ?

Yes, because in this country it w on’t be seen as a gay flagship. All the people who have seen it here walk out buoyant at having seen a musical with actors who are really recognizable, particularly Hugo, who is somebody they all trust and love.

In Australia, it’s going to do fabulously well on its own two feet. Audiences will embrace it as just another successful Austral­ ian film, whereas in America and across Europe it will be this flagship.

Do you think there will be any backlash here?

Yes. The film continually surprises me. I went out wanting to CINEMA

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shock people with language as filthy as I could make it and ping pong balls flying all over the place. I was out to do another version of Frauds, where I push the envelope and see how much I can get away with.

I was very frightened that the film was going to be looked down on by women, because there are not a lot of female roles in the film and the ones that are there are not treated all that positively.

The wife is very nice.

She’s fantastic, but a lot of people have said she’s your typical brash, fag hag, blah blah. I actually thought she was a very level character.

How do you feel P riscilla compares to a film like Savage N ights [Les N uits F au ves, Cyril Collard, 1993]?

Savage N ights deals with political correctness. It takes on issues - AIDS and promiscuity - and faces them directly. Priscilla touches on issues like AIDS and then steps right over them. The last thing I wanted to do was turn it into a political movie. But the first question I was asked at the San Francisco Festival was, “Why didn’t you face more gay issues in the film? There are a lot of important blah blah ...” The heavy-wing gay groups then started in on me. I said, “Hey, if you want to make that sort of movie, you make it. I’m making a musical here - a very funny, tasteless, brash, loud, in-ya-face film. I didn’t want to get into that. I think it would have been irresponsible for me to ignore it, but I didn’t.

AIDS is there.”

In P riscilla, you diffuse people’s fear of drag queens, homosexu­ als and transsexuals. Couldn’t that be seen as being political?

No. All I wanted to do was make a big, delightful, colourful musical. The driving motivation from day one was to find a way of bringing the musical back to life, to find an excuse for audiences to accept people bursting into song.

Sitting off stage one day, I looked at some drag queens with their make-up and costumes straight out of 1950s musicals. The theatrics were just so big and in-ya-face and I realized this was it; this was the excuse. The driving force was to make the musical; the story about drag queens just happens to be the vehicle.

Why did you choose three heterosexuals to play the two drag queens and one transsexual?

I used the best actors for the roles. They were also, and believe me I saw very many, the ones who didn’t show any fear.

Like Frauds, this started small. The original idea was to make a very low-budget film with real drag queens, with a more dramatized doco feel. But it just didn’t work. Drag queens are the most undisciplined people on earth. Their evening kicks in at about 11pm and when the sun comes up they go home. Just getting these people to turn up to an 11am screen test proved physically impossible.

Two days into casting, it became pretty obvious that this original idea wasn’t going to work. So I went looking for actors.

We could have gone the Julian Cleary or Danny LaRue route, and that’s where the investors thought we’d be going, but I said, “No. I want to cast against type”, as I usually do. “W hat do we have here? An aging gay man/transsexual. Let’s pick the best-known older heterosexual icon I can think o f.” T hat’s where Terence Stamp came in.

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TICK (HUGO WEAVING). THE ADVENTURES OF PRISCILLA, QUEEN OF THE DESERT

Terence is one of the greatest living legends, voted the most beautiful man six times during the 1980s. He couldn’t believe the script when we sent it to him. He was so shocked that anyone would have ever conceived of offering it to him.

It was the same with Phil Collins on Frauds. Phil was com­ pletely shocked: M r Nice Guy gets offered the bad guy role. But that’s the way I like to do things.

Guy Pearce is a pretty butch character, presently riding a horse round on Snow y River, and I said, “Let’s turn him into a mincing queen.” Guy stunned people when he accepted.

As for Hugo Weaving, people just love him anyway. He can’t put a foot wrong.

W hat do you think you are getting by casting against type?

Surprise. I’m bored to death with movies. All I want to do with the rest of my life with films is make things that other people don’t. I want to go right up to the edge every time I can. If every now and then I go over the edge, at least I will have tried.

Do you think you have a capacity to explore things that won’t be as quirky?

Absolutely. I’ve done two different movies. The only similarity is that they are very colourful and in-ya-face. But I’ve done that now. My next project is a very dark love story. It’s based on a chilling but absolutely fascinating short story. It is something

I w ent out w ahtingto shock people w ith language as filthy as I could make it and ping pong balls flying all over the place. I was out to do another version of Frauds, where I push the envelope and see how much I can get away w ith.

that hadn’t been done before: a love story that’s incredibly psychological. It’s about two people who basically can never meet, but just keep passing. It will be a drill-bit of a movie, but done very subtly.

Once I’ve done that - and I am trying to find the finance at the moment - I want to try a really intelligent horror film.

On top of those, I have so many other things lined up. There is the Ayn Rand story I mentioned to you in Cannes, which I have now optioned, after quite a fight. It’s the most astonishing story arid incredibly subtle. It’s going to be really hard for me.

Do you want to steer away from being typecast as a director of gay themes?

Ohj yes. I’ll never do another gay film again. I’ve played in that area and I’ve had enough. I want to always keep trying something different. If you see me repeating myself, Jan, just remind me. I’ll deserve a good kick up the arse, because repeating myself is one thing I never want to do.

There will be a strain of Stephan Elliott running through all of them, surely.

Yes. W hat do you think that strain will be?

Good question. Michael Kuhn, with whom I’m currently propos­ ing a deal at Polygram, a British-based company that is really going fast, sat me down and said, “We really want to invest in you, but we are a bit frightened.” “Why frightened?” I asked, and he said, “We don’t think you know who you are yet.” “W hat do you mean?” “Well, you’ve made two films which are quite different. If you actually look at them technically, they are very different films. We don’t know if we are ready to go into a multi­ picture pact when we don’t think you know who you are.”

those two to three days what you are going to do.” I said I’d have to think about that and that I was seeing every studio in town.

It was great getting all this attention, but when I went back to these people one by one and said, “Okay, here is a list of projects that I want fo do and develop myself”, they said, “Fine. We are really keen for pew ideas. ” I left with these people synopses of one or two of the projects I’d like to get under way. Everyone of them has come back very slowly saying, “Um, ah, gee, we are not too sure if they’re our cup of tea. W e’d definitely like to get involved with them in the future, but, ah, look we have a script at the moment we’d like you to have a look a t.” All those people said in Cannes that they wanted to make my next film, no matter what it is, but I soon began to realize that no one was even reading the material I gave them.

The horror of development hell in Hollywood is that hundreds of thousands of dollars are spent on scripts every week. Execs develop a screenplay by spending $ 5 0 ,0 0 0 on it. Then they spend another $5 0 ,0 0 0 on it to make it a little bit better. But it’s still not real good, so they spend some more.

I have been looking at scripts that haven’t got anywhere, but have been through four writers and cost $ 2 5 0 ,0 0 0 to get to this stage. Someone’s head’s on the chopping block. So, no matter how bad these scripts are, the execs are going around saying, “These are great; these are going to happen.”

Paramount, for example, says it is very interested in putting one or two of my ideas into development. So I asked, “How many films have you in development at the moment?”, and they said, “6 0 0 !” When I enquired how many of those 600 they felt were going to get made, I was told twelve. To this I replied: “I don’t know if I want to throw my projects into that pool, but it’s this pool which is clagging Hollywood.”

Did you agree with him?

No way. I said, “Y ou’ve missed what I am. There is a subversive nature to everything I do - a cheekiness.

T hat’s me. I always sit at a dinner table throwing as much wood on the fire as I can until somebody basically snaps. I can’t help it. That is why my films are cheeky and subversive. They want to see how far they can go. And that is going to be the case with all my film s.”

HEADING TO THE CENTRE: THE ADVENTURES OF PRISCILLA. QUEEN OF THE DESERT.

W hat did Khun say to that?

I haven’t heard back. We are still waiting.

There are lawyers on standby.

Have you had many overseas offers ?

When I got to Los Angeles, they were throwing themselves at me. Every studio came in and proposed a deal. There were some weird ones, too. One guy offered me a “blind” deal that says I will make a picture within the year. For that, he’ll give me an enormous amount of money.

You have to do what he wants?

No, we will sit down in a room and have, as he put it, “a screaming match for two to three days. Then we will decide at the end of CINEMA

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about a film or two’s time. I want to try something bignow.

What was the budget for P riscilla} They won’t let me tell you. If people know what it was, they would just laugh and say it couldn’t be done.

Do you think that’s a plus sometimes for directors?

ADAM, THE ADVENTURES OF PRISCILLA, QUEEN OF THE DESERT.

So, where does that leave you? Will you do another Australian production with the FFC? I’m going to keep changing, but I’ve decided I can’t go the studio route. I just won’t fit into their system.

I’m very surprised how certain other people have jumped in already. One Australian director I know is doing a script I got offered three months ago. It’s a rotten script. I actually rang the people and asked, “Why are you making this?” They said, “Because someone famous is in it.” I said, “But it’s rat shit. It’s not funny and yet it’s supposed to be a comedy.”

Hopefully, one day you will be able to call your own shots.

The plan is to keep mobile. I’m on a good roll at the moment. I have all the European money interested in me; Priscilla was cofunded by European money. Using British money and shooting wherever I want, I’ll be able to retain creative controls as long as I stay nimble. The second you land into the big Hollywood pot, you lose control and have 40 people cutting your film.

Priscilla was an absolute joy to make. The FFC was absolutely fantastic. I was a real hater of and screamer at the FFC a couple of years ago, but I’ve completely changed my mind. From halfway through Frauds, it has been nothing but supportive.

They are really saying, “Go for it.”

Even if you make an international film, did you still want to keep your Australian connections ?

Absolutely. I can’t leave this place. I love it. Every time I travel, I just want to come home. In my future contracts, it will state that I won’t have to write the script in America nor do the post­ production there. Fred Schepisi does it here; so does George Miller.

If I do make an American film, I’m still going to keep my ties here, because it’s such an honest, great way of working.

Are you still going to be collaborating with [executive producer] Rebel Penfold-Russell?

Yes,’ Reb and I have a rproject somewhere up our sleeves. It’s in > r 10 • C I N E M A

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Completely.

It was very brave and it doesn’t happen a lot here, but most of the film points we divided with the crew.

Everybody who worked on the production got a point.

That left me with basically nothing, as I didn’t get paid much for thefilm in the first place. But I did get to make the film the way I wanted to. I had complete freedom and a crew who worked hand, tooth and nail all night long, because they were investors in the film.

It’s quite simple: the bigger the budget, the more you lose control of it. Keep your budgets low and they will leave you alone. But the second it starts creeping up past that dreaded $5m mark, you’re in trouble. Fair enough, too, because it’s not your money. Somebody is giving you their money and you have to be responsible. But when it gets to $5m, they can become very fucking responsible.

Does that this mean that you will settle for smaller budget films?

Yes, smaller budget is fine. I have no problems with that.

The film I may do next with Rebel is a horror film - though “horror” is the wrong word. It’s a true story that happened in Melbourne which I’m thinking of relocating somewhere else. It’s one of the most shocking things I’ve ever read. It scared me and I realized tb ’ only chance I’ll be able to get away with making that the way I want to make it, because all hell is going to break loose, particularly from the church groups, is to keep the budget low.

Then they will leave me alone.

What were the benefits of being at Cannes a second time with P riscilla} The biggest learning curve.

This time I went to Cannes with a completely different attitude. I went with my guards up, not believing the hype and also not being prepared to jump at a fish. I said I don’t want Priscilla in Compétition and they were very good to us. They really wanted the film, so we found a way to make it all work.

Believe me, there were some very long telephone arguments trying to work out how to get it in. But I said, “I am not coming back to Cannes if this film is going to be crucified for being just what it is.”

So, with those guards up, going back this time was like magic.

Everything worked for the film, because we knew exactly what it was, and we knew exactly what the Festival was.

It seems that Cannes, and particularly Gilles Jacob, looks after its own.

Yes; they are incredibly loyal. Gilles is like grandad. H e’ll throw his arm about me and be absolutely charming. He took the punt with Priscilla, and the sense of loyalty was enormous.

That’s the nice part about going into Cannes. No matter what I do from this point onwards, I’m sure in some capacity Cannes

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When you made T h e H it [Stephen Frears, 1984] with Bill Hunter, did you ever think that one day you would be playing opposite him romantically?

[Laughs.] No, but I did ask for him.

Bill is a great actor and the things he did on T he H it were amazing. So I said to Steph, “Why don’t you try and get Bill Hunter?” When he phoned him and asked, “How’d you like to play Terry Stamp’s lover”, Bill just put the phone down and laughed. He thought it was hysterical.

Did you have to overcome any prejudices in playing Bernadette?

No, I had to overcome lots of things, but prejudice was not one of them. Fear was the problem - fear of making a complete fool of myself, of never working again.

How did you overcome that fear?

First of all, it had to be drawn to my attention that I was responding from a fear base. This comes from my wanting to be perfect all the time. It is a habit that has inhibited me all my life, standing between me and a lot of wonderful things that I let pass.

I was too frightened of failure.

What did you feel was so difficult about this characterization?

That I couldn’t do it properly, that I would look stupid, that I couldn’t be a beautiful woman. I then realized that the trip was not about being perfect; the trip was being less than perfect. It was a chance to fail and have a good time.

In truth, it didn’t matter whether I succeeded or not, because these drag queens are meant to be bad. They don’t have any training; they are just guys who jump into women’s clothes. As Adam says, “We dress up in women’s clothes and prance around, mouthing to other people’s words.” The fact that we were good was just a bonus.

Hugo Weaving has talked about feeling liberated through dress­ ing up. You obviously felt some liberation as well.

Yes, but my liberation came from addressing the fear barrier and finding that there was performance beyond fear.

Was that fear of failure responsible for your making some less notable films in the 1970s?

In the 1970s, I was really retired and did a lot of travelling. Any films I made, I did because I’d run out of money.

By the time I came back to do the Superm an films, I was no longer a leading man. I was just like a jobbing actor.

Did that worry you?

No, it didn’t worry me. It was just the reality. I was no longer like this icon.

You have the ability to play both good and evil parts. Did that make you lean towards doing P riscilla even more?

No. I have always been able to stretch, and play angels or demons. But they have all been horizontal: there was good and there was evil, and between them were all the other roles.

What made Priscilla original for me was that it is so vertical.

It is a different dimension altogether. In that sense, it was a big departure for me.

W hat do you think of the three Australian drag queens perform­ ing at Cannes ?

It is fascinating to have them here now. It is like a dream come true.

All the things that performers normally dread about Cannes is their idea of heaven. Everywhere they go they are photographed.

They are particularly brilliant with an unusual artistic expres­ sion. I can now understand that there is an artistic outlet for everybody, which people often don’t get to exercise. W hat I admire about drag queens is they are basically ordinary guys and, in that moment when they get up and perform, they are stars.

How long did it take you to become your character?

I didn’t have a lot of time, really. I had a couple of weeks in London when I had my body waxed, looked for high-heel shoes that fitted and found make-up that suited my complexion. As soon as I got to Oz, I was thrown into it.

Do you like Australia?

Yes, I had a wonderful time. I really enjoyed all the places we went. But I haven’t been back to Melbourne because I had a really bad time there in the ’60s.

Why was that?

Because I went there with this beautiful model called Jean Shrimpton and Melbourne matrons really pissed on us ... and the paparazzi. It was ugly.

I’m sure Melbourne’s very different now.

■

Pure S...

DIRECTED, AND CO-WRITTEN WITH CAST, BY BERT DELING 83 MINS, 1976

Over the years, when I am asked to name certain Australian films that have been overlooked, underrated, lost or forgotten, invari­ ably I think of Bert Deling’s Pure S...1 (1976). Of course, to speak of this film in this particular context is to speak about damned films - films which go against the grain, films which tend to get (for whatever reasons: aesthetic, cultural, censorship, textural, exhibition/distribution, etc.) buried under our proverbial carpet of mainstream cultural production. Pure S... is a film that keeps coming back to you in so many different, ephemeral ways. It is a film that is (arguably) one of the finest films to have emerged from our local cinematic soil.

Minute for minute, the episodic narrative energy and the hypnotic, gestural m ise-en-scene represents the underbelly of Australia’s recent film culture. To echo John Flaus here, this is a film that reminds you, in so many different and engaging ways, of the “dead grammar” of our prevailing “talking-head” natural­ ism which characterizes Australians as movie storytellers. I don’t want to suggest that Pure S... represents the conscience of our recent film industry. Nothing I imagine could have been further from Bert Deling’s, [producer] Bob Weis’ and the improvisatory ensemble of actors’ minds when this film was made.

Pure S... comes back to the fore of my Australian cinephilic interests for many complex, subtle reasons. One is that it encap­ sulates many attractive thematic, stylistic and performative reg­ isters that are (to this day) often bypassed in Australian feature and independent films.

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It is a film that rockets along in its modest way with its pronounced “Hawksian” action tropes, overlapping dialogue, energetic textual colours and movements, and its overriding “Mahogany City” narrative of heroin addicts in search of the next fix. Part road movie, part comedy (although, admittedly, the humour is primarily attuned to the then prevailing icons and values of inner-city drug culture), Pure S... presents to us an alien world of drug hustlers, middle-class city dwellers, and the marginal. Its underlying empathy for its main characters, who are caught in the vortex of surviving with a heroin addiction in an unforgiving ethos, is one of the film’s positive attributes. Its language is a subtle and kinetic palette of many different cultural and moral colours. The film’s improvisatory/ensemble feel shapes it as an unpredictable, finely-nuanced work that avoids the more familiar dramaturgical and narrative stiffness of (then and now) mainstream Australian cinema. Deling conveys in graphic and mobile ways the overriding hysteric lfestyle of his blighted characters. Related to this, Deling’s non-judgemental perspective on his characters and storyline is another refreshing quality of this praiseworthy film.

The rock music soundtrack (with its inspiring six-minute introductory music) and the numerous intense close-ups of addicts shooting up capture the maelstrom these characters are experiencing. Nothing is cheaply romanticized in this nittygritty, “white heat”, streetwise film. Its microcosm of our past and current cultural, social and sexual lifestyles that make up our

BELOW: JOHN (JOHN LAURIE) AND LOU (GARY WADDELL).

BERT DELING’S PUBES....

pities is an insightful, dynamic snapshot of our evolving society, And, significantly, its characters are always on the move looking, scheming, wondering how they will get their next shot of “pure shit”. They weave in and around dingy apartments, dives, haunts, clubs, middle- and working-class houses, and chemist shops. Inside the belly of the city, these characters, through their zig-zag social mobility via the genre set-up of the road movie, connect together the seemingly disparate social locales and class structures as if they were characters in a hardboiled crime novel.

Tom Cowan’s sharp, bouncey camera style captures so eco­ nomically and vividly the hysterical energy of the main charac­ ters’ lifestyle. Its off-beat camera angles, noirish lighting schedule

lected

and mid-shots convey to the spectator the urban inferno that surrounds these characters’ lives. The performances ring true (for a number of obvious reasons): Gary Waddell’s characteristic high-voltage energy colours his sharply-attuned performance as one of the main characters on the move for the next shot. Helen Garner’s cameo role as a neurotic wonian cleaning a whiter-thanwhite kitchen bench comes to one’s mind, as does M ax Gillies as Dr W olf (a “Doctor M abuse” characterization of a psychiatrist) who believes in his panopticon morality as the prescriptive solution for his poor misguided patients. All the main leads are credible characters in terms of their dialogue and actions. Phil Motherwell’s cameo role (like Garner’s) also has a magnetic quality to it.

AUSTRALIAN FILMS

POSTER FOR THE MELBOURNE RELEASE OF PURE S....

I TO M

O ’ REGAN

Ï

King of the Coral Sea DIRECTED AND CO-WRITTEN BY LEE ROBINSON 85 MINS, 1954

Earlier on in the film, a young woman fatally overdoses. The death is accepted by her addict friends as part of the fabric of everyday life. Life goes on, hysteria and all. In less capable hands, Pure S... would have been milked for all its melodramatic juice.

What I prize in Pure 5..., aside from its rhizomatic concerns and energy, is its overall compelling concern to enunciate an impro­ vised cinema of m ise-en-scène. Generically, stylistically and performatively, Pure S... has much to offer to us today in terms of enriching our current cinematic grammar. It is a film that speaks of things in a m od est but alive way: it is rooted in our urban vernacular of everyday speech, behaviour and beliefs.

Moreover, Pure S... is valuable for its scorching honesty about its characters and the world they live in. It is a film, like one of your favourite songs or books, that comes back to you from an elliptical, unexpected angle - fleetingly, subversively - making your life a little more vital and pleasurable, a little more utopian.

Notes

1

The film was to be called “Pure Shit”, but the Commonwealth Censor banned the title. The film was, therefore, shown with the revised “Pure S...” on the credits.

PURE S... Directed by Bert Deling. Producer: Bob Weis. Scriptwriter: Bert Deling in collaboration with the cast. Director of photography: Tom Cowan.

Sound recordist: Lloyd Carrick. Editor: John Scott. Cast: Gary Waddell (Lou), Ann Heatherington (Sandy), Carol Porter (Gerry), John Laurie (John), Max Gillies (Dr Wolf), Tim Robertson (Television Interviewer), Helen Garner (Jo), Phil Motherwell. Apogee Films. 16mm. 83 mins. 1976.

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On the face of it, King o f the C oral Sea has little going for it. Made and set in M abo country - the Torres Strait - the Islanders feature largely as a backdrop. The underwater shooting occasionally defies belief. Like so many other Australian films, there is a serious miscasting. Charles ‘Bud’ Tingwell (as Peter Merriman, the city blow-in with a playboy rep) gets the girl and not Rod Taylor (Jack Janiero). As Ted King, Janiero’s offsider, Chips Rafferty looks, speaks and acts the working-class outlaw who should make good. You won’t find the menacing Chips Rafferty of “W ake in F right” (Ted Kotcheff, 1971 ) here.

It is “Uncle Chips”: the well-loved international actor famous for being a nice bloke. And he carries this film as the “King” of the title. Merriman (Tingwell), the absen­ tee owner of the business the Rafferty character runs, is initially the outsider but becomes the city fellow who makes good. Yes, he redeems himself, saves dad from drowning, teams up with dad to make a successful fighting team, rescues the daughter, Rusty (played by lima Adey), when she is kidnapped, and forges a friend­ ship with Janiero (Taylor).

The other line of action concerns an illegal immigra­ tion racket run by the town drunk (who turns out to be feigning drunkenness) and one of King’s employees - the ambigu­ ous head diver, Yusep (Lloyd Berrell). They are in the business of bringing in “prohibited European nationals” (we see only one in his narrow brimmed hat) from Hong Kong. For his part, Yusep could be Malay or he could be - as Andrew Pike and Ross Cooper suggest - a “ half-caste ”1; either way he is set apart from the native Torres Strait Islanders. The final dénouement has Yusep and King fight it out. One must die. Not surprisingly, it’s Yusep.

C oral Sea is just an action film. Andrew Pike and Ross Cooper describe Robinson and Rafferty’s approach as “a comic strip yarn in an exotic location”2. They also note its “slack pace of action” and Rafferty’s “unconvincing character”3. While land­ scape features centrally, it is an interesting backdrop, no more. I once unfairly called this “landscape as exploitation”4 to get at its curious documentary feel - more travelogue than concerned documentary. And this feel sits surprisingly well with the comicstrip logic of underdeveloped characters, minimal character motivation, and exotic yet mundane environs. Pike and Cooper note that Robinson drew on his documentary about the pearling industry to make this film (just as he earlier drew on N am atjira the Painter, 1947, for T he P hantom S tockm an , 1953). It shows.

From a Malay and Islander perspective, this film is a ‘W hite’ story against a black backdrop. White exploitation and colonial­ ism seem elided by the benign presence of Rafferty who fairminded as ever - lightly keeps the peace. The illegal immi­ grant’s situation is callously treated. Trying to breach Australia’s borders is apparently of the same order of crime as trafficking in heroin or shipping prohibited fauna. The ‘illegal’ turns the gun

on himself to avoid capture. All we know is that he and others like him are ‘prohibited’ and were responsible for the death of a ‘Commonwealth agent’. In classic com ic-book logic, they are the baddies; they come via Hong Kong. Yusep’s Chinese girlfriend, Serena (Frances Chin Soon), aids and abets the racket. We don’t know much about her except that Ted King, Peter Merriman and Jack Janiero all try to stop her boyfriend “hanging around”. She also cries in church. Yes, on many counts, C oral Sea is a bad film.

It is ideologically bad. It is filmicly bad.

But, K ing o f the C oral Sea is my candidate for a neglected film worthy of reconsideration. Why? Is it those comic-strip qualities too rarely found in our cinema? (In this context, it is nice to know that Lee Robinson was also a key figure in the television series, Skippy.) Is it that, as Bill Routt would say, we are just too concerned to make Australian cinema worthy - aesthetically, morally, and politically5 - that we won’t allow for films like this one which do not strive for goodness? Is it the attractive image of mangrove swamps, islands, scuba diving and tropical work etched deeply into an Australian imaginary of the tropics under­ writing so much internal migration to Northern Australia, then and now? Is it the problems it creates for a 1990s critic split between knowing the film’s problems yet enjoying an inconse­ quential yarn suited to the Saturday afternoon movie matinee slots of a black-and-white television childhood? Is it a feeling that C oral Sea has much to tell us about film industry internation­ alization as producers are now operating in an environment not far removed from the one Robinson worked in during the 1950s and 1960s? Is it the M abo decision and the recognition of settler Australia’s continuing colonization in and outside Australia that made me focus on this, a Torres Strait, film? Is it the feeling that this film indirectly interrogated Australia’s borders and our relations with the peoples of the Pacific? Am I wanting to find a way of speaking to problematic parts of Aus­ tralia’s filmic past like this film that we can easily bury whether out of respect for Is­ landers or to avoid the embarrassing recog­ nition of a boy’s own Kipling in 1950s Australia?

Or is it more personal: that this film evokes for me another history, another place, another self? For me, the exotic rep­ resented in this film was never far out of reach. I went to school in the 1960s and later university in the 1970s with people from Nui Guinea and the North - black and white. I fully expected one day to get there: Bougainville, Popendetta, Rabaul, the Sepik and Thursday Island. These places were part of an attractive and available land­ scape emplotted in the tall tales of people who lived there sent to Catholic boarding/ day schools elsewhere. My uncle on my father’s side was a station manager in the Territory and the Gulf of Carpentaria and something of a crocodile hunter. And be­ cause my mother was a New Zealander with M aori in-laws, my sense of location

and place stretched to a familiar (and the broader sense of family that went with it) which stretched from the old Papua New Guinea to New Zealand. This sense of familiarity was further encouraged by reading. Two titles stick out in this regard: Jack M cLaren’s My C ro w d ed Solitude (a school text) and D istrict P atrol O fficer.

My contact with TIs was limited, though vivid. One of my first full-time jobs was as a blacksmith’s striker on the Queensland railways in Rockhampton. There the railway workers held the Torres Strait Islander gang of fettlers in awe. They were the best; they acted as if they owned the place; and you bloody well steered well clear of them while they were in town. They were also soon to be displaced - as was the blacksmith’s job - by mechanization; just as in C oral Sea the Islanders on the pearling boat were, one presumes, to be displaced by the “aqua lungs” brought in by Merriman, so pearling operations could keep abreast of “the Jap s”. This film speaks to a part of a cultural history where once people talked of Nui Guinea’s possibly becoming an Australian state, where the Australian relationship with Nui Guinea could have become more like that with New Zealand.

King o f the C oral Sea comes out of a moment in Australian story-telling when industry downturn and a lack of investment in new plant and equipment made a focus on the margins of Australia’s means of selling ‘Australia’ internationally and na­ tionally. This interest dovetailed with a move right across Aus­ tralian visual and literary expression to foreground the ‘outback’ and Australia’s margins in storytelling and settings. In doing so,

RUSTY KING (ILMA ADEY), TED KING (CHIPS RAFFERTY) AND JACK JANIERO (ROD TAYLOR). LEE ROBINSON'S KING OF THE CORAL SEA.

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Aborigines, Islanders, Papuans and South Sea Islanders came into focus. And with it came a foregrounding of colonial relations persisting into the present. To be sure, the resulting films, books, photographs and paintings were often complicit - and at best lightly questioned such colonial relations.

But the legacy of this period is not all bad. Russell Drysdale’s paintings and photography6 bear comparison with Tracey M offatt’s m ise-en -scèn e in B eD ev il (1993) and some of her photographic work. The ‘documentary photographer’ Axel Poign­ ant7, famous now for his sensitive representation of Aborigines along the Canning Stock Route, worked for a time as Robinson’s cinematographer. Robinson in his turn was touched by an interest in indigenous peoples. In 1949, he made some bizarre suggestions for the make-up of Australian films: they were to be set in the Northern Territory, “land of Australians in their truest sense”, and Aborigines, in particular, were to be good subjects because, having no sense of time, they did not mind the retakes of shots necessary for film production.8 I don’t think we have to move far from this to later claims we are more comfortable with - like notions of the closer relation between Aborigines and Islander and the camera; or the Aborigi­ nal and Islander activist claim for a m ajor presence on their terms in Australian cinema. Robinson (director) and Rafferty (pro­ ducer) also returned their work to the community: K ing o f the C oral S ea’s premiere was in Thursday Island. The Robinson oeuvre of the 1940s and 1950s also provides a recognition on film of a multi-racial Australia at a time of the white Australia policy.

The film refreshingly shows Islanders working - they are integral to the economy not apart from or a liability to it. It’s a film which projects a utopian dimension where relations between the Island­ ers and the ‘white’ Australians are understandably separate, but easy and workable. Jane Campion’s use of a M aori back-drop in T h e P iano (1993) and Wim Wenders’ use of Centraban Aborigi­ nes in Until the E n d o f the W orld (1992) are not that different from the use of Yusep, the Chinese woman and the many Islanders in K ing o f the C oral Sea. O f course, there is a limit to how far we can take C oral Sea. This 1950s culture and the country culture of my fond memory that animates this film were racist. The film naturalized what looks now like exploitative working conditions and it found okay an objectionable degree of interference into the personal lives of people of colour (Yusep and his Chinese girlfriend Serena).

Back in 1974, I had a decision to make: to go North to the ‘exotic’ that was already familiar and work on cattle properties and prawning boats in the Gulf, or to go South to the equally exotic ‘big smoke’ that was Sydney and the snow. Each was appealing. If my mate hadn’t pranged his car, we would have gone north. Alone, I went south. I never made it to the snow, and I never did go scuba diving. I became a critic writing about a film, King o f the C oral Sea, whose life world I once wanted near. We can remember King o f the C oral Sea for its racism and paternalism, but we can also remember it for its positive expressive and ideological practices.

Notes

1

Andrew Pike and Ross Cooper, Australian Film 1900-1977: A Guide to Feature Film Production, Oxford University Press in association with The Australian Film Institute, Melbourne, 1980, p. 285.

2

Ibid., p. 290.

16 • C I N E M A

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3 4

Ibid., p. 285.

Tom O’Regan, “Australian Film in the 1 9 5 0 s”, Continuum, 1:1 (1987),

6

p. 11.

William D. Routt, “Are you a fish? Are you a snake?”, Continuum, 8:2 (1994), p. 219.

Jennie Boddington* Drysdale, Photographer, National Gallery of Victo­

7

ria, Melbourne, 1987.

See Roslyn Poignant, “The Photographic Witness?”, Continuum, 6:2

5

8

(1993), pp. 178-206.

Lee Robinson, “Photogenic Frontiers”, Monthly Film Bulletin, August 1949, p. 11.

Directed by Lee Robinson. Producer: Chips Rafferty.

Associate producer: Hugh Molesworth. Scriptwriters: Chips Rafferty, Lee Robinson. Director of photography: Ross Wood. Underwater photography: Noel Monkman. Sound recordist: Hans Wetzel. Editor: Alex Ezard. Com­ poser: Wilbur Sampson. Cast: Chips Rafferty (Ted King), Charles ‘Bud’ Tingwell (Peter Merrirrian), lima Adey (Rusty King), Rod Taylor (Jack Janiero), Lloyd Berrell (Yusep), Reg Lye (Grundy). Southern International.

35mm. 85 mins. 1954.

KING OF THE CORAL SEA

. -•

I

LORRAINE

M O R T I M E R 1

The Clinic DIRECTED BY DAVID STEVENS 93 MINS, 1983 p a t ie n t : doctor:

I’m so nervous!

A lot of people have trouble the first time. That pub across the road’s just packed with sores and discharges getting up the nerve to come over here.

On a sunny Melbourne morning, medical student Paul Armstrong1 (Simon Burke) hesitates before going into a V .D . clinic. The film has started with a would-be patient (M ark Little) biting his nails, hitching his pants, crossing the road and re-crossing it before taking the plunge. But the student has a helpful prop to delineate him from the unwashed masses: he puts his white coat over his arm and enters.

During his day’s education with Dr Eric Linden (Chris Haywood playing a doctor with a hangover, an irreverent wit and no white coat), he and the audience meet a range of characters who seek help or work at the clinic. The day-in-thelife-of format allows director David Stevens to cut from one encounter to another - in the waiting room, the consulting rooms, the tea room - all with an equality of care and attention.

The wink Paul gets from a man across the waiting room is the first of a series of surprises. Revolted and fascinated by the place, with its decided lack of clinical decorum and acceptance of all manner of “deviant” sexual behaviour, he asks Eric why, when he could be in a decent practice earning a decent living, he works in a derelict building “full of prostitutes, poofters, fleas and crabs”. He advocates burning it down.

“Listen, people are going to fuck whether you like it or not.

And I say good luck to them. [...] This place is here to see that they enjoy it”, replies Eric pragmatically. W hen he talks to his boyfriend’s mother on the phone, then comments on the conver­ sation to the student, it takes a while for the penny to drop. Paul’s response is harsh: “Those men come in here - they drop their

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4 . SAVE with easy withdrawals of your advance repaym ents.

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BANK 45440

V isit your n earest bran ch o r call

DR ERIC LINDEN (CHRIS HAYWOOD) AND PATTIE (SUZANNE ROYLANCE). DAVID STEVENS' THE CLINIC.

pants for you. Now that is simpler than hanging around a public lavatory, isn’t it?” There’s a reply, a heaviness, but then a religious fanatic comes into the room. He can tell there has been a slut in there. It reeks of sin. “Must be a friend of yours, is he?”, quips Eric.

Mood changes quickly in T he Clinic. Comedy goes to drama and back again in the space of a wink or a nudge. But by the end of the film, a bomb scare has evacuated the place. At the local pub, softened and more tolerant, Paul confesses anxiety over a condition of his own. Eric examines him in a toilet. “All your worst dreams come true”, he jokes.

Though it shares the ckeekiness, the laconic humour, of other Australian films I love like Sunday T o o Far A w ay (Ken Hannam, 1975) and ‘B r e a k e r ’ M orant (Bruce Beresford, 1980; co-scripted

by Stevens), T he Clinic doesn’t have their lyrical beauty. It’s a different kind of gem. Stevens decided it would be a very static film - “the simple purity of the script and the characterizations” were what the film was about.2 As Susan Dermody and Liz Jacka note, Chris Haywood and Pat Evison (as the social worker) play roles that are “‘Australian’ without a single sign of effort”3.

David Stevens has a knack for combining the naturalistic and the didactic. He can have things taken for granted yet at the same time foreground pertinent aspects of these same things. {The Sum o f Us (Kevin Dowling and Geoff Burton, 1994) achieves this too, interspersing the unconventional love story treated as “natural” with direct camera address, drawing attention to the “unusual” nature of what the audience is going along with.)

Indeed, it seems to me that Stevens is quite shameless. He is uncompromising about the enjoyment of sexuality. He is unafraid of making educational lessons part of good comedy, organic to it.

And he and scriptwriter Greg Millin are not only educating those poor ignorant prudes out there. At one stage in The Clinic, Wilma (Betty Bobbit) appears incognito in black wig and dark glasses, looking ridiculous. Embarrassed and feeling degraded, she has been obsessed since an “unclean” sexual encounter. While her nurse (Jane Clifton) and doctor (Rona McLeod) struggle to suppress their amusement, we share the fun - till she stops us all short with a perfect little speech about her right to be treated with dignity. There’s a resolute egalitarianism here.

While he had wanted to make something different after the 18 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

1 01

successful mini-series A Tow n L ik e Alice (David Stevens), in the end Stevens thought T he Clinic had “the same soft, humanist love in it”.4 It is about the banal (infected) everyday and the dream community - where a Wilma is duly apologized to, a young woman with herpes is cuddled and comforted, a patient who suicides is mourned and a priggish young doctor is transformed in a day. (“You’re not such a prick away from the clinic”, a cheerful young prostitute tells Paul.) People can generally muster a laugh between them in spite of it all.

At the festive end of the film, brought about by the bomb scare, M cLeod’s doctor reconciles with her lover, two gay patients strike up an acquaintance outside the public lavatory, pa­ tients and locals gather around an ice-cream van, and an old lady tells a young cop, who thinks blowing up the clinic wouldn’t be such a bad idea, that he might need the place himself one day - when he grows up.

Stevens suggests his films are really about dreamers: “I sup­ pose my whole life is dedicated to saying, ‘Stuff the bureaucracy.

Dream your dreams and be individual, as long as you do no harm to anybody’. That is the essential proviso.”5 The “Australian fairy story” element he mentions in relation to “U n dercover” (David Stevens, 1 9 8 4 )6 sits nicely with T he Clinic and T he Sum o f Us. (Did some of those wanting the “realism” of death and denial in the new film not hear “Life Could Be A Dream” played throughout?)

Despite the ensemble strength of T he Clinic, it’s in Chris Haywood’s Eric Linden that the creative combination of hardnosed on-the-ground realism and live-your-dream openness irre­ sistibly come together. Haywood is consistently funny and beautiful throughout the film. T he Clinic is “that thing of wonder”, say Dermody and Jacka, “an Australian film whose main protagonist [...] is incidentally gay, without this affecting either his vitality as a protagonist, or the clarity of his masculin­ ity”7. Though the script does suggest Linden is homosexual, Stevens says he may be lying to shock the student, Paul. The film shows, he says, that he does not believe there are delineated sexualities.8 The identity politics in T he Clinic are not of the excluding, toxic variety.

Ads for T he Clinic were misleading. It had a short run but it has since gathered many fans. Understandably, most who re­ spond to the film now talk of its “pre-AIDS” quality. Sex arid death have become firmly yoked together again in popular consciousness. HIV AIDS might make the sexually-transmitted* clinically-curable diseases in this film seem benign, but it needs to be said that T he Clinic was already evangelizing about responsible sexual, human relations.

Notes

1 2 3

There are no character names given on the front or end credits of The Clinic. These are taken from Monthly Film Bulletin.

See Debi Enker’s interview with David Stevens, “Voyages of Discovery”, Cinema Papers, 44-45, March-April 1984, p. 12.

The Screening o f Australia Vol. 2: Anatomy o f a National Cinema; Currency Press, Sydney, 1988, p. 221.

VIDEO SLICK COVER FOR ITALIAN VERSION OF LUIGI ZAMPA'S BELLO ONESTO EMIGRATO AUSTRALIA SPOSEREBBE COMPAESANA ILLIBATA.

4 5 6

“Voyages of Discovery”, op. cit., p. 12.

Ibid, p. 15.

Ibid, p. 12.

7

The Screening o f Australia, op. cit., p. 6.

8

“Voyages of Discovery”, op. cit., p. 14. Stevens is responding to Enker’s question about whether Nina in “Undercover” is supposed to be a lesbian.

See footnote 1.

9

Directed by David Stevens. Producers: Robert LeTet, Bob Weis. Scriptwriter: Greg Millin. Director of photography: Ian Baker. Production designer: Tracey W att. Wardrobe: Rose Chong.

Sound recordist: John Rowley. Editor: Edward McQueen-Mason.

Music director: Redmond Symons. Cast: Chris Haywood (Dr Eric Linden9), Simon Burke (Paul Armstrong), Gerda Nicolson (Linda), Rona McLeod (Dr Carol Young), Suzanne Roylance (Pattie), Ve­ ronica Lang (Nancy), Pat Evison (Alda), M ax Burch (Hassad), Gabrielle Hartley (Gillian), Jane Clifton (Sharon), Ned Lander (Warwick). The Film House & Generation Films. 35mm. 93 mins.

1983.

THE CLINIC

rR A F F A E L E

C AP UT 0

Bello Onesto Emigrate Australia Sposerebbe Compaesana lllibata [GIRL IN AUSTRALIA] Directed and co-w ritten by Luigi Zampa 114 mins, 1971

As the re-emergence of the Australian film industry got on the way in the early ’70s under a number of government schemes, the co-production venture and/or the import of foreign productions was still an open door for filmmaking in this country. With Nicolas Roeg’s W a lk a b o u t andTedK otcheff’s “ W ake in F right”, 1971 perhaps represents the tail-end of this avenue in a period called the “decades of survival” by Stuart Cunningham.1 W alka­ b o u t and “W ake in F rig h t” were fairly maj or foreign productions set in the exotic locale that is Australia, and, although made for an international market with m ajor international cast and per­ sonnel, these productions could throw a little support by way of employment and experience in the path of a developing film industry.

Another such film released in 1971 is B ello on esto em igrato A ustralia s p o s e r e b b e co m p a esa n a illibata (G irl in A u stralia), directed by a veteran Italian filmmaker Luigi Zampa, who began his career as a screenwriter after attending Rom e’s Centro Sperimentale in the ’30s. Zampa soon went on to direct in the climate of the neorealists in the early ’40s. His two most notable films are Vivere in P ace (To L iv e in P ea ce, 1946) and Anni d ifficili (D ifficu lt Y ears, 1948) and, although his career went into decline during the ’50s, he maintained a steady output of films until 1979. Zampa was at the ripe old age of 66 when he directed B ello o n esto .

Zam pa’s film is not as highly regarded or as well-known as the Roeg and Kotcheff films have become since 1971. For good reason, of course. As explained by Andrew Pike and Ross Cooper, the film is “made by Italians for Italians”, and, although released locally with English subtitles, the distributor “restricted most screenings to Italian cinemas in m ajor cities, presumably fearing the reaction of Australian audiences to the film’s geogra­ phy and to the anomaly of local actors such as Noel Ferrier speaking fluent Italian”2. Unlike “W ake in F right” and W alka­ b o u t, B ello o n esto has never been seen either in repertory cinemas or on television, basically because there has never been a print in the country since its release.3 B ello on esto truly is a forgotten film, and not only as a little item of curiosity within the history of Australian cinema. The film’s star, Alberto Soldi, is Italy’s most popular comedian, and this film has managed to elude at least two major retrospectives of his films that I know of, one at New Y o rk’s Museum of Modern Art in 1986 and the other here in Australia last year. But this is not to say that a repertory release would ensure some form of critical validation, or that the film would not be an “anomaly” to Australian (including migrant) audiences today as it would have been in 1971. The film certainly appears to be a slapdash and fairly dopey effort on a couple of levels: at times it employs a string of clichés, as when a kangaroo casually hops around the inhabitants of the desert township of Bun Bun Ga; or when a character suddenly, out-of-the-blue, happens across a tribe of painted Aborigines roasting a goanna on an open fire. At other

CONTINUES

ON P A G E

79

CINEMA

PAPERS

101 - 1 9

URBAN EDGE: NEW URBAN CINEMA FROM MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA F ilm V icto ria ta k e s M e lb o u rn e to th e w o rld

The film season URBAN EDGE: NEW URBAN CINEMA FROM MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA will screen in London and Washington DC in late 1994.

The season is a FTm Victoria initiative aimed at promoting the recent achievements of the Victorian film industry in the international arena.

The season showcases a group of recent films which explore Melbourne’s contemporary urban environment and multicultural community.

*

THE BIG STEAL

*

THE HEARTBREAK KID

*

NIRVANA STREET MURDER *

PROOF

*

ROMPER STOMPER

*

SPOTSWOOD

*

ONLY THE BRAVE

*

RHINO CHRISTMAS

*

RUTHVEN

*

KOORIES & COPS

*

LIFE AT LITTLE LON

*

THE LETTER

DEATH IN BRUNSWICK *

HOLIDAYS ON THE RIVER YARRA

12 - 31 August 1994

10 -1 6 October 1994

National Film Theatre

American Film Institute Theater

London U.K

Washington DC U.S.A.

Film Victoria, 4th Floor, 49 Spring Street Melbourne Vic 3000 Tel: (03) 651 4089 Fax: (03) 651 4090 20 . C I N E M A

PAPERS

1 01

RICHARD FRANKLIN

SORRENTO.

Historically, Victoria has been one of the two major sites of Australian film production.

In fact, the first Australian film (covering the VJRC D e rb y) was shot in Melbourne in November 1896, followed a few days later by the better-known coverage of the Melbourne Cup. Despite the sterling efforts of the Salvation Arm y’s Limelight Department and Efftee Productions, among others, Sydney assumed greater prominence as a film capital in the 1920s and ’30s. But Melbourne revived to be, on and off, the principal hub of the 1970s revival. '* v ■> v; . fhe 1980s and early 90s have seen a shift back to New South Wales and the strong emergence of Queensland as the centre for off-shore productions, but Victoria remains a crucial part of the national film and television industry (as Jenifer Hooks and Chris Fitchett of Film Victoria detail in their; interview).

Just as there has been an increasing interest in discovering and recording regional differences in pronunciation and dialect throughout Australia, so have there been attempts to delineate regional characteristics in film. Film Victoria has just run a season of films in London and Washington called Urban Edge, a collection of short and long films which highlight the urban environment and lifestyles of Melbourne. (The cultural impact of the smaller states, such as South Australia, with its reviving industry, and_ Western Australia, which has battled bravely to make indigenous films, will be examined in future issues.)

Of course, a film culture is far more than just film production, and here Victoria has taken a pre-eminent role. The Melbourne International Film Festival is one of the world’s oldest, its shorts competition highly regarded; Cinema Papers is now into its twenty-first year; the Modern Image Makers Association has stimulated interest in innovative areas of image-making; the Melbourne Cinematheque has been a pioneer in taking up the mantle of the defunct National Film Theatre; the film society movement in Victoria has always been the country’s most active; the multi-faceted Australian Film Institute is Melbourne-based; the Swinburne film school (now VCA) has schooled many fine directors and technicians; and so on.

As well, there are the many firms which are synonymous with Melbourne filmmaking. Most of these have been covered in : “Technicalities” stories over the years, but Cinema Papers also intends more company and personnel profiles in the future (starting with Soundfirm and its contribution to sound in Australian filmmaking). ^ In this supplement, space allows only a concentration on three recent Victorian productions: Ben Lewin’s lu ck y Break; P. J. Hogan’s Muriel’s Wedding, which while conceived and post-produced in Melbourne was partly shot in Queensland; and Ana Kokkinos’ 59-minute drama, Only the Brave. But they give a taste of what has made Melbourne a distinctive contributor to national and world cinema.

v,

;

.

"

'

>

_

JENIFER HOOKS, DIRECTOR, AND CHRIS FITCHETT, PROJECT MANAGER AND DEPUTY DIRECTOR, FILM VICTORIA

I n t e r v ie w e d

by

S

co tt

M

urray

Film Victoria is one of Australia’s longest-serving state film bodies. Formed as the Victorian Film Corporation in 1976, it has been an important stimulus for local and national film culture.

The aggregation in Sydney of the m ajor federal funding bodies, along with free and pay television, has placed added pressure on state bodies such as Film Victoria to develop and fight for local industries.

By all accounts, Film Victoria has done well. Jenifer Flooks and Chris Fitchett explain why, and detail the organiztion’s plans for the future.

W hat have been the m ajor changes in the past five years or so at Film Victoria?

HOOKS: That’s a macro question. I’ll do the macro and Chris can do the micro.

There have been a number of changes really. Although Film Victoria hasn’t gone through the problems of some of the other bodies in terms of cost overruns and terrible government reviews, nonetheless we did have a public bodies review in 1991. The organization had been through a bit of a trough, and the review really pointed the way forward.

We came through that with flying colours and a recommenda­ tion for increased funding, which was very much supported by

1

o.ur client base. A lot of the recommendations that were made we had already in fact incorporated, and the rest we took on board.

W e’ve implemented some internal structural changes to improve the service.

Two new programmes we have are the Melbourne Film Office and the Committed Funding Facility. The state government has backed both of those, the Melbourne Film Office to the tune of $0.5m from the Community Support Fund, and the Committed Funding Facility for $3m. We hope to build it to $10m by various means in future. That will provide the facility to discount pre­ sales and distribution guarantees, which is a pretty necessary financial part of the infrastructure of the industry.

FFFCHETT: As well, the Independent Filmmakers’ Fund was established in 1986 and the New W riters’ Scheme in 1991.

There have also been changes to documentaries. We have now a separate documentary strand of the Independent Filmmakers’ Fund and we have a Documentary M entor Scheme and a Docu­ mentary Manager, who is now part of the Project Division.

What were the m ajor review changes that you adopted?

HOOKS: The biggest and best was the recommendation to employ a Reporting and Recoupment Manager, which we do now. That manager is a great asset in terms of tying-up our project investment management systems. They just needed that final thing to ensure that all the returns came back, and reporting was done on time.

W hat’s happened with that, too, is that it’s become a data collection resource. Part of the Reporting and Recoupment Manager’s job is not only to get all those reports back, but to incorporate and gross that data in ways that we can actually use appropriately. Using statistical theory in managing the whole business has been a real help, like with any business.

So, there hasn’t been any significant philosophical change over the past half decade or so. The aims are still essentially the same.

HOOKS: Absolutely, because if it ain’t broke don’t fix it.

Having as our criteria quality, innovation and marketability — however subjectively any group or people at any time make those judgements —has worked very well for us for more than a decade.

BUDGET What is Film Victoria’s annual budget and how is that split up between various areas?

FITCHETT: Taking Industry Assistance first, script development totals about $ 5 0 0 ,0 0 0 . Assistance to producers, either through producer package schemes or market attendance, is $ 235,000.

Production investment is about $2m , plus a separate allocation for first-time features by new directors of $ 300,0 00.

In total, In d u stry Assistance for 1994-95 will be $3m.

Then there is Creative Development, which is the New W rit­ ers’ Scheme, the Independent Filmmakers’ Fund and the Docu­ mentary M entor Scheme: that totals $ 5 7 5 ,0 0 0 and Cultural Development is $ 6 0 0 ,0 0 0 .

Finally, there’s the Commit­ ted Funding Facility of $ 2 .5m for 1994/95.

During the recession, there were great fears that Film Victoria’s budget would go backwards at quite a rate. You’ve been suc­ cessful in not only holding it but increasing it.

FITCHETT: It actually did go back. The first year I started [1990], it went from $3.4m from government to $ 2 .7m, a 2 0% cut. Since then, it’s been slowly working its way back up. As well, there are now these new programmes.

t h e h o n . h a d d o n s t o r e y , v ic t o r ia ' s m in is t e r

FOR THE ARTS.

HOOKS: I have to say we worked very hard on that. T hat’s the first thing. Resourcing for the industry is one of the key strategies that this organization has to involve itself in.

Second, we deliver very well for the government dollar, both creatively and financially.

We have also had a series of Ministers, I have to say, who have been very committed to film.

Equally important, we have had constancy of Ministers. The federal people, poor darlings, have had a new Minister every eight months or so, since Barry Cohen. On the other hand, we had a year and a bit of Jim Kennan, who is one of the film lovers, and we’ve had Haddon Storey ever since. He is a 30-year gold cardcarrying member of the Melbourne Film Festival. He is very committed to, and very knowledgeable about, film. It’s the most important sector in the arts portfolio for leading the way into the information age.

INDUSTRY ASSISTANCE Is script development concentrated on features, or spread evenly across television, shorts and documentaries?

HOOKS: All of those, yes. Film Victoria has always done a spread of everything on the basis that, given the number of features that we make in Australia each year, people couldn’t survive if they weren’t involved in other parts of the industry. Therefore, we should be, too.

We have made an additional commitment to documentaries because we have a less-than-appropriate share of the documen­ tary production slate. New South Wales has a very dispropor­ tionate share.

Because of Film Australia?

HOOKS: Partly because of Film Australia, but also because the chief documentary end-users are the ABC and SBS. They are inappropriately focused on Sydney and New South Wales.

C I NE M A PAPERS

101 . 23

hooks

:

“Overall, we have a 22.5% script development strike-rate. We think that’s

probably the best in Australia, although we can’t get data out of any other agency.

It’s probably also not far off an international benchmark as well.”

W e’ve put a fairly concerted effort into those organizations the financing ones and the end-using ones - understanding the contribution that Victorian documentary-makers can make to the national documentary slate.

Do you find that imbalance in other areas as well?

HOOKS: No. If we look at the state population share and expect to have that or above in terms of our output, I think we accomplish that in all other sectors.

FITCHETT: The amount allocated in script development is a third for features, a third for television drama and a third for documen­ taries.

Do you aim to be that catholic or does it just end up that way?

HOOKS: We set it at the beginning of the year. Obviously, half­ way or so through the year we see how we are going and then we might reallocate things. But we do target a certain number in each category.

Do you find the percentages of projects going into production varying from one area to another?

HOOKS: Overall, we have a 2 2 .5 % script development strikerate. We think that’s probably the best in Australia, although we can’t get data out of any other agency. It’s probably also not far off an international benchmark as well.

It seems admirably high.

HOOKS: It’s absolutely amazing.

FITCHETT: It’s better than one in five, Would the A FC’s record challenge that?

HOOKS: I think not.

There are different strike rates between the categories, but we haven’t actually broken them down.

PRODUCTION INVESTMENT Over recent years, Film Victoria has only been able to put up a small percentage of a budget.

FITCHETT: Yes. For low-budget features, it was about $3004 0 0 ,0 0 0 : On R o m p er S tom per [Geoffrey Wright* 1992] it was $ 3 4 0 ,0 0 0 , and on P r o o f [Jocelyn M oorhouse, 1991] $ 3 0 0 ,0 0 0 .

Depending on the total budget, it is about 2 5 % .

Which means you are always a junior partner.

FITCHETT: Yes. HOOKS:. That can be problematical. In situations where the producer is bringing private sector participation to the FFC, then clearly our contribution gives it that additional clout. In situa­ tions where we are in partnership with AFC, we may not get the project we want.

The AFC has an internal profile of the sort of films and filmmak­ ers it wishes to support: for example, it will only production-fund first features. If Film Victoria doesn’t share that profile, how do you resolve what gets made?

HOOKS: Well, we certainly have this first-feature match-up, it’s just that we don’t always find a first-feature project that both bodies would like to support.

FITCHETT: In fact, we haven’t done one with the AFC since Body M elt [Philip Brophy, completed 1993].

HOOKS: We did P r o o f, R o m p er S tom p er, R eturn H o m e [Ray Argali, 1990], H olidays on the R iver Yarra [Leo Berkeley, 1991] and B o d y M elt with that model of first-time, low-budget fea­ tures.

So, you’ve only done first features with the AFC? HOOKS: Yes, because that is their programme.

T o what do you attribute such a high percentage? Is it because you follow the projects through, helping them along into produc­ tion, or it’s just a good selection of the projects that come to you?

FITCHETT: Well, we also did G old en B raid [Paul Cox, 1991], but that was four to five years ago. [The film was shot in 1989.]

script development investments were made. My B rilliant C areer [Gill Armstrong, 1979] andD im b o o la [JohnDuigan, 1979] were the first to go into production of those that we developed.

In 1983-84, for example, there were 40 new projects devel­ oped and 13 eventually got produced. So, the strike-rate for that year was 3 2 .5 % , which is extraordinary.

Recently, the hundredth script we developed has gone into production - that is the 100th out of 4 4 4 new projects developed since 1976-77.

HOOKS: Such as O cean G irl with Film Queensland.

How, then, does Film Victoria react when the AFC ‘varies’ its HOOKS: I suppose it would be a bit of both, though we don’t follow first-feature rule by funding John Hughes’ second feature?1 a proj ect into production unless we can see that it meets our criteria HOOKS: Well, it does get people confused. Consistency is a really of quality, innovation and marketability. We don’t defy those important function when you are dealing with an industry criteria in order to get that strike-rate up. We don’t set it as a target clientele, where the development time frame is quite a long time. either; it’s just a calculation that we do retrospectively.

I do think the process of communal committee assessment, of There is no point in developing something for a particular fund if the rules are going to change inside two years or three years. not using outside assessors but using what I call objective criteria People need to know that what they are developing has a place - even though they are subjectively judged by generations of where it can be financed, that they can target. That is why people on the staff and board of Film Victoria, all of whom at any consistency is very important at Film Victoria. point would have a different view on practically everything - is finally a good one. The system works, and that’s what delivers FITCHETT: Film Victoria does have a lot of flexibility. We are that outcome of 2 2 .5 % able to do projects with the FFC, with the AFC and even without either.

FITCHETT: It’s been consistent since 1976-77, when the first

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FITCHETT: The only area where we actually can fully-fund is the Independent Filmmakers’ Fund. In features, we are always a junior partner to either the AFC or the FFC. What ate some of the recent features you have done with the FFC?

FITCHETT: T hat E ye the Sky [John Ruane, post-production], H o tel Sorren to [Richard Franklin, post-production], M u riel’s W edding [P. J. Hogan, 1994], T he H ea rtb rea k K id [Michael

RECENT VICTORIAN FEATURES WITH FILM VICTORIA INVESTMENT. CLOCKWISE FROM TOR LEFT: JOHNNO JOHNSTON (ANDREW DADDO) AND SERSEANT SAM PHILLIPS {GEBARD KENNEOV) IN BODY M ELT (PHILIP BROPHY); HENRY {PETER COYOTE) AND ORT {JAM IE CROFT) IN JOHN RUANE'S THAT EYE THE SKY; MARY {BETH CHAMPION) AND PETER {ADEN YOUNG) IN PAUL COX'S EXILE. BERRIMAN {BILL HUNTER) AND DALE {DAVID FIELD) IN AUCiNOS TSIUM IOOS' EVERYNIGHT... EVERYNIGHT. JOHN TÄTOJ1US' THE SILVER BBl/MBY; JOAN PLOWRIGHT IN RICHARD FRANKLIN'S HOTEL SORRENTO;

Jenkins, 1993], T he Silver Brum by [John Tatoulis, 1993] and E xile [Paul Cox, awaiting release].

We were involved in the development of M etal Skin [formerly S p eed , Geoffrey Wright, awaiting release] and Angel B aby [Michael Rymer, post-production]. We are going to be involved in the marketing of L u cky B reak [Ben Lew in,1994].

There has only been one feature film that we have been involved with that hasn’t been an AFC or FFC project in the past four years and that’s Everynight...

[AlkinosTsilimidos, awaiting release], which they actually got to double-head on their own money and we just came in at the end to finish off.

Greg Smith said in his recent C in em a P apers interview2 that he was concerned about the number of projects which the New South Wales Film & Television Office had developed but couldn’t afford to continue a financial involvement with. Has that ever been a problem for Film Victoria?

HOOKS: Not that I can recall.

FITCHETT: It is frustrating not to be able to put in more money.

There is a ceiling at the moment of $50 0 ,0 0 0 , depending on how our returns from previous investments are going. If we’d had more money, we would have put more into M uriel’s W edding, which would then have generated more money for development in other areas.

T hat upper limit has been the situation for some time and one the industry is well aware of.

HOOKS: Yes, we have all learnt to live with it.

As I said earlier, I believe our evaluation of projects has been very good. So, it is frustrating to get in a situation with one of our financial partners where its preferential list of projects does not match ours. We are probably right, but we have to go with them, because they have the most money. T hat’s the reality.

FITCHETT: It will not only assist the local producers, it will attract interstate productions. The aim is also to attract overseas productions, because it’s very difficult to get the banks to cash­ flow these guarantees. As Jenny said, in the past we did do it on projects, but we couldn’t cash-flow the whole amount of a television pre-sale. On O cean G irl, for example, we could only cash-flow $ 92,500 of a $ 5 8 5 ,0 0 0 pre-sale and the producer had to get an overdraft to cash-flow the rest.

HOOKS: It’s work-consuming for a producer to have to do that.

W hat are the guidelines of the Facility?

FITCHETT: It’s for Victorian productions, which means you shoot and post-produce in Victoria. We advance against the distribution guarantee or the pre-sale, and there is a 2% admin­ istration fee and a low interest rate.

HOOKS: The project has to go through the normal project assessment criteria. Then there is due diligence credit checks through a credit committee of the counter parties to the deal.

W hat amount will you be able to discount in any year?

FITCHETT: This financial year we can do $ 2 .5m of cash-flow.

Will it have much effect on bringing other productions to Victoria?

FITCHETT: Well, T he E leartbreak K id is a good example. That had a NSW producer, director and writer. We offered at the time $400 ,0 0 0 as an investment, of which part was actually cash­ flowing Village Roadshow’s distribution guarantee. As a result, it ended up being shot and post-produced in Victoria. That gave a lot of work to the laboratories, but also the cast and the crew.

Nino Martinetti ended up shooting it, John Clifford White did the music, Peter Carrodus edited it, and so on.

How is your investment counted by the FFC?

What other initiatives are important in bringing production to Victoria?

HOOKS: It’s not counted as private-sector funding, but I think it’s respected. If we want to be in something, it’s because the project has passed our “quality, innovation and marketability” test. It has been looked at by people, the staff and the board, who have made a judgement which is respected.

HOOKS: The Melbourne Film Office will be a major factor. It promotes the services and facilities that the state has to offeJr, both nationally and internationally.

FITCHETT: We are so dependent on returns for our revenue that we are in the marketplace as much as other people are. And if you look at who’s on our board, they constitute a very good assess­ ment panel. Lynda House, Daniel Sharf, Amanda Smith, John Kearney, Dione Gilmour, M ac Gudgeon and Natalie Miller are the seven who read all the scripts. Then there is Chris Lovell, Brian Parry and Chairman Peter Griffin, who look at the project, the people involved and the deal.

The Committed Funding Facility is Film Victoria’s recent initia­ tive in terms of financing. How did that come about?

HOOKS: We were exploring ways of enhancing the revenue base of the industry in Victoria. We started out with somebody who was seconded to us to undertake an analysis of all our financial affairs to see how we could begin to do that.

We used to do discounting on a very small level with different projects. But we decided to break that component of our work into a separate fund. Under the Act, to use that capacity we had to actually borrow money to run the fund. But the Treasurer gave it to us anyway, so we were more than delighted.

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W hat do you see as the strengths of Victoria compared to a Queensland or NSW? HOOKS: The creative infrastructure, the skills and the talent of people, which builds on areas where we already have strengths, nationally and internationally. Soundfirm is clearly one of them.

I’m not big on locations, I have to say, as any kind of attraction. Filmmakers have always cheated locations. They find where they want to shoot because of the people they want to use, not because of the story they have. It must be a very minimal percentage of films that actually make a decision about shooting for a particular location, when a location isn’t specified in the script. I mean, if you have an O cean Girl, there is nowhere else you’d want to shoot it apart from the Great Barrier Reef. T hat’s logical. But if you have a project like G ross M iscon duct [George Miller, 1993], it can be shot anywhere. M ost people will find a location that meets their needs without having to travel for it.

Do you feel Victoria lacks any facilities ? Sydney always mentions it doesn’t really have film studios.

HOOKS: There is a problem with studios because filmmakers can shoot anywhere, be it on the streets or in a shed. The studio

business is one of the most difficult businesses in the industry.

World-wide, there is a huge over-supply of studios. Competition in that business is a tough game. I wouldn’t want to be basing competitive strategies on a studio.

W hat are you doing in terms of attracting off-shore productions?

HOOKS: There is an interest in off-shore productions, chiefly co­ productions. If you are looking at comparative advantage that we have, it’s producers with international stature. For us, co­ production is a very logical way to go and one that isn’t too offensive to a lot of people.

We had one series of M ission: Im p o ssib le here some time ago, and a lot of the people who worked on it were very pleased that they had that opportunity. We certainly wouldn’t want to deny our community that opportunity. But I think the relocation of a particular series, or set of movies, is probably the most difficult thing for us to achieve. The first step is co-productions, and to build from there.

So, you don’t see yourselves trying to attract the off-shore industry of Queensland?

HOOKS: I’ve always thought that we should work co-operatively on that. If Queensland has developed this specialization, then one can salute them for it. And if they have an overflow, then they should be directing it to the rest of Australia. Unfortunately, they often direct it to New Zealand, which I don’t think is very patriotic of them.

The Queensland operation is really a kind of branded front for the whole of Australia, anyway. The crews they use are from Victoria and New South Wales. They don’t have a really indig­ enous infrastructure base, so our people often go and work there.

Given the industry is peripatetic anyway, there is really no problem with that. But our people do come back and say, “Gee, I wish we could do it here. Why do we have to go to Queensland ? ” Obviously, we can work towards helping that option if people want to come here, but I’m certainly not going to go head to head with Queensland over it.

TELEVISION Television production used to be far more significant than it is now.

HOOKS [surprised]: Oh ... oh.

FITCHETT: There is a boom in television production at the moment. Just going through my list of productions in Victoria, there is a lot of television drama. There is L a w o f the L a n d , which is now into a third series; B lue H eelers, which is being commis­ sioned for another 37 episodes; O cean Girl, which is going into its second series; a Silver B ru m by animation series of 13 halfhours; T h e Feds, which is six tele-movies; and H alifa x FP, which is another six tele-movies. They are the ones that Film Victoria is involved in.

There are others, too, such as N eig h b ou rs and A C ountry Practice, which is now been done in Victoria. There is Jan u s at the ABC, L ift O ff 2 at the Australian Children’s Television Founda­ tion (ACTF) and M an fro m Snow y R iver 2, which is into its second series of 19 episodes at a budget of about $ 8 0 0 ,0 0 0 per episode.

HOOKS: And then you have the comedy side: Frontline, Full F rontal, T he B o b M orrison S h o w , N ew lyw eds and W ed lo ck ed .

But there was that amount of television production back in the 1980s, plus up to 20 tele- (and non-)theatrical features and six mini-series each year.

FITCHETT: A lot of those tele-features were labelled tele-features purely for 10BA purposes. They were made without a local television network putting up the license fee. They made them in the hope that they would be sold to television.

Well, many of them have a television logo of some kind on the head credits, such as Network T en ’s on the Kennedy M iller material and Network Nine’s on many others.

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RECENT VICTORIAN FEATURES WITH FILM VICTORIA DEVELOPMENT OR MARKETING, TOP: EDDIE (ANTHONY LAPAGLIA) AND SOPHIE (GIA CARIDES) IN BEN LEWIN'S LUCKY BREAK; RIGHT: HARRY (JOHN LYNCH) AND KATE (JACQUELINE McKENZIE) IN MICHAEL RYMER'S ANGEL BABY.

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P. J. Hogan

in te rvie w e d by Jan Epstein

I

Muriel’s Wedding is the firs t theatrical feature o f writer-director P. I. Hogan, who made the acclaimed short Getting Wet (1984) and the telefeature The Humpty Dumpty Man (1986). Produced by Jocelyn

and Lynda House, the director-producer team behind the highly-

successful Proof in 1991, Muriel’s Wedding is already a h it, its French partner, Ciby Sales, buying out the FFC investment

W hy did you choose a woman as hero?

before release. That act of faith was rewarded by the film ’s

From the beginning, M uriel’s was always a woman’s story. For me, the inspiration was a bridal-wear store, in which, of course, the clientèle were women.

I grew up in a small town and it always seemed to me to be harder for women ... especially to escape.

Being a male, I always felt that it was expected of me to leave home. But when my sisters were younger, they often thought that marriage was the only way of leaving home and establishing a future. They were encouraged that way by my parents.

tremendous success at Cannes, where, like Proof, it premiered in the Quinzaine des Réalisateurs (Directors’ Fortnight). A w itty black comedy distinguished by some excellent performances,

Muriel’s Wedding is the story o f Muriel (Toni Collette), a contemporary Cinderella living in the seaside resort of Porpoise Spit. The excessive expectations of her friends and fam ily cause her to take refuge in a dream world o f ABBA songs and search fo r the Prince Charming who w ill rescue her from anonymity.

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One tends to think that first films come from something more directly personal.

Any film from a writer-director is by definition personal. The story may have nothing to do with your life in its events, but the sensibility is the writer’s.

Do you feel you are now worth something, particularly since you are world-famous? Are you Muriel?

I actually felt I was worth something before M uriel’s W edding, which is why I wanted to make it. : My journey was similar to Muriel’s. It was a very personal journey and it actually didn’t really require fame or success for me to feel that. I think that’s the message of the film, too. In fact, I would be very Suspicious if the film’s success did make me feel somewhat better about myself. It did not reveal to me that I could tell a story; it just confirmed that I could.

Even though things haven’t been easy for Muriel, she finally takes her life into her own hands. T h at’s a very positive message.

Yes. If somebody can see M uriel’s W edding and take that from it, then I am very happy, because that’s what it’s about.

CHERYL (ROSALIND HAMMOND). BILL (BILL HUNTER). MURIEL (TONI COUETTE). JANINE (BELINDA JARRETT). TANIA (SOPHIE LEE). P. J . HOGAN'S MURIEL S WEDDING.

W hat is the theatrical meaning and function of Muriel’s best friend, Rhonda [Rachel Griffiths], becoming a paraplegic? Were you looking for a hinge to get Muriel away from her family?

For me, Muriel is somebody who thinks that she has no power, that she is put upon. But, in the course of the film, she is the cause of all the events. She just goes after what she wants in a guileless but very forthright way, never taking responsibility for the damage that she causes.

I wanted something to happen in Muriel’s life that she had no control over. It had to be a very moral choice for her, something that really makes her think about what she wants and who she is.

Rather than it happen to Muriel personally, I felt it should

MURIEL IN A BRIDAL-WEAR SHOP. MURIELS WEDDING.

going to be happy for her. She doesn’t really think about her mother’s plight because she is obsessed with her own.

The irony is that Bill and Muriel are so much alike, and yet Bill sees Muriel as a failure. O f course, if we perceive him as he perceives Muriel, Bill is just as big a failure. He has failed to give his family any support; he’s a very selfish and self-centred man.

I think the marvellous thing about Bill Hunter is that he makes Bill completely believable.

Even though he’s larger than life.

I don’t think Bill is larger than life; absolutely not. I have been at tables with men like that when they have a go at their families, at their wives, at their friends. There are men like that; it’s just a shock to see them on the screen. happen to somebody whom she is close to. If Muriel were the paraplegic, you’d never hear the end of it, and she would certainly make sure that she was looked after. But it happens to Rhonda, somebody who was always there for her, but who would now need her.

I wanted Rhonda’s accident to be as sudden and unexpected as it would be in life. It was a very deliberate decision to have it happen right at the film’s high-point. I really wanted to throw the audience into a tumble along with Muriel. Disaster never comes along when we expect it. It always sneaks up on us like a mugger, and slips in the knife.

How did you come by Rachel Griffiths, because she is absolutely wonderful.

Rachel was unexpected. I’d never heard of her, and she hadn’t done much. When she first came through the door - this tall, wild girl - 1 thought, “Oh, you’re nothing like I imagined Rhonda!”

In the script, Rhonda is written as physically a lot like Muriel.

My idea was that Rhonda was an outsider in the same way that Muriel was. When Rachel walked in, I thought, “She is so beautiful. There is no way that she’s is going to be an outsider.”

But then, when she read the scene for me, I realized that she is an outsider. It’s the personality of Rhonda that makes her one. She just says whatever she thinks and she ruthlessly hones in. No wonder she is an outsider.

As soon as Rachel did the scene, I knew she was Rhonda.

Where did the character of Bill [Bill Hunter] come from?

Bill is a combination of small-town entrepreneurs that you find from Queensland down to New South Wales, the sort of guy who is in with whatever government is in power.

I always imagined Bill as a Labour man, someone who believes in jobs for the boys. If you do right by your mates, they’ll do right by you.

Bill Hunter believes that Bill treats his family like he does because he was treated that way as a child. There are a lot of Australian men in that generation who have a problem with expressing their feelings. Bill is a very unhappy man and he takes it out on his family.

Equally, Muriel is very callous towards her mum [Jeanie Drynan], who is a very poignant character.

“Callous” seems to suggest that it’s a conscious act, whereas I think Muriel is just insensitive. She has been taking her mother for granted for so long that she just doesn’t think about her any more. She assumes her mum is always going to be there, is always 30 . C I N E M A

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Is Bill based on anyone you know?

I actually find that most politicians have more than a little of “Bill the Battler” in them.

When Joce and I were travelling around Canada with P r o o f, we met the Australian ambassador in M ontréal. He was a raucous, pushy guy; quite incredible! He made Les Patterson look genteel!

I’ve met a lot of politicians over the years like him. I think Australians make the mistake of thinking that politicians are somehow sophisticated. We don’t necessarily assume they are intelligent, but we think they must have some sort of charm, otherwise they couldn’t be where they are. But some of them are completely without charm.

Did you have Bill Hunter in mind from the start?

Yes. I wrote the script with Bill in mind. I would have been devastated if he had chosen not to play it.

DAVID (DANIEL LAPAINE) AND WIFE MURIEL. MURIEL S WEDDING.

M u riel’s W ed d in g is a very vibrant and colourful film in a hyper-real way.

All that comes from the Gold Coast. You really don’t get any idea of what the town should look like from the script. In fact, there are a couple of references to its being drab. But when [produc­ tion designer] Paddy Reardon and I went to the Gold Coast, the place wasn’t anything like drab.

It’s a chaotic mess of neon and plastic, with blue skies above and beach below. It comes at you!

How much did the Gold Coast influence the three girlfriends being screaming young harri­ dans?

There are four, actually. One sort of gets beaten up and aban­ doned on the way. [Laughs.]

The girlfriends are raucous and uncouth, and that’s how I remember a lot of girls from the Gold Coast. They are absolutely in love with themselves and certain that there is no better world than this. O f course, for them, there wasn’t a better world, because this is the world they rule.

Sophie Lee, Pippa Grandison, Rosalind Hammond and Belinda Jarrett really ran off with those characters, and I just let them go for it. All of them had grown up with girls like this.

Sophie, I think, grew up in Newcastle and ran with a very similar pack. When she came in for the audition, she said, “I want you to know, I know these girls. I just want you to know th a t...

How bad do you want me to be?”

I think she is marvellous, and so funny. Her performance is very exciting and not what you’d expect.

While the characters in M u riel’s W ed d in g are larger than fife, they are not cartoons. There is tremendous emotional substance to them.

I don’t think they are cartoons at all.

But the girls and the outrageous costuming are part of an almost surrealist tradition that runs from Barry Humphries through to Strictly B a llr o o m [Baz Luhrmann, 1992].

I actually went a bit easy on them. The only thing I heightened is their dialogue, which I made funny. Usually those girls aren’t funny. They are crass without being in any way witty. I made them witty in spite of themselves.

I bring a certain style to my work. The dialogue isn’t realistic.

If it were, everybody would just go, “W hat?!”, but they don’t.

W hen we put Australians on film, even we can’t believe it.

There must be a grotesque element in the subconsciousness of Australia which produces these characters.

It’s just cultural cringe to pretend that these people aren’t out there, because they are. We have to remember that Noelene from Sylvania W aters was not famous before this camera crew came into her home.

N eig h b ou rs and H o m e a n d A w ay purport to be the soapie stories of everyday people, but they are not everyday people.

They are homogenized nothings. T h at’s why I think filmmakers put those people from their experience on film.

But other cultures, like America, don’t take the same delight in doing it. W e have a sense of humour about it.

In my experience, the humour we get from these characters is

RHONDA (RACHEL GRIFFITHS) AND MURIEL PERFORM ABBA MUSIC AT AN ISLAND RESORT. MURIEL'S WEDDING.

affectionate. I suppose the most extreme case is Paul Hogan. The majority of Australians feel a great deal of affection for his characters, and yet he’s the archetypal ocker.

Some Americans are completely crazy and totally extreme, but I don’t think Americans like to laugh at themselves. The filmmak­ ers that do put the extremes of American society on film, like Robert Altman, Jim Jarmusch and M artin Scorsese, are consid­ ered very dark, edgy filmmakers. Whenever a foreign director makes a film on American soil, you get a more penetrating view of the American character. I’m going back to the past for an example, but D eliveran ce [1972] is a good one. I’d never seen people like those hillbillies that John Boorman depicted, but I have certainly seen them since travelling in the U.S. Did you have any negotiations with Bob Hawke over the tel­ egram joke?

None at all.

It’s a great joke.

I hope Bob thinks so.

The association could be a little bit daunting.

We left it ambiguous as to whether it actually happened or whether Bill had made it up. I wouldn’t put it past Bill.

It isn’t so much a joke as a demonstration of Bill’s character.

I think that’s one of the saddest moments in the film, because Bill is at his wife’s funeral and he uses it as a way of getting attention.

He is saying to all these people gathered together, supposedly to pay their last respects to his wife, “Look! I am an important man.

You are all wrong about m e!” It’s a critical moment for Muriel, because Bill does with his wife’s funeral what Muriel did with her wedding.

Just from people’s responses, I know that there is a great number of people responding to the depth in the film. I think they are getting it.

Did you choose A BBA ’s music because it was the music that you loved or because it reflected something about the culture you are dealing with? It’s interesting that Stephan Elliott also uses it in T h e A dven tu res o fP r ic illa , Q u een o f th e Sesert [1994].

I think it’s because Stephan and I are the same age. We were teenagers when ABBA hit Australia, and this was the music we grew up singing.

When I was a kid, I was feeling a lot of the things that Muriel feels, and ABBA spoke for me in a very simple but direct way. I CIN EMA PAPERS

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also felt that Muriel should like music that is out-of-date, to make her even more of an outcast amongst the girls. The girls say that they are into Pearl Jam and Baby Animals, and there is Muriel with her love of ABBA, who aren’t even together any more!

W ithout them, there wouldn’t have been a film. The FFC always requires a certain percentage of outside investment.

It’s very sunny music.

It was a bit rough. I think some people mistake their priggishness for good taste.

I haven’t read the review, but from what I gather the film seemed to be too much for him. The film is very truthful and I think he was expecting something, or wanting something, a lot more standard. It doesn’t do what you expect it to.

It isn’t a genteel movie. I never wanted to make a genteel film.

My feeling about cinema is that it’s the art-form that comes after you. It’s the most powerful of art-forms because, when you go into a cinema and the lights go down and the film starts, you are not safe any more. If the film takes you, it can do anything it wants with you, and that’s what I was trying to do with M uriel's W edding. I wanted to seduce the audience with laughter and then take them into the pain Muriel is feeling.

Variety also said that it was too commercial. That was very funny to me because this was a film that we could not raise money for. Everybody turned it down, because nobody thought it was commercial. Now that it’s finished, it is commercial. I just don’t understand that.

It is very sunny because Muriel needs the sunshine. I think that Muriel is very unhappy in the 1990s.

When I was growing up in the ‘70s, I was unhappy. I wanted to have grown up in the ’60s. I thought that in the ’60s I’d be smoking lots of dope and there would be all these women who wanted to have sex with me. In the ’70s, I felt very lonely and outof-date.

I thought it important for Muriel not to feel right in her time.

She has a romantic vision for herself, but she is not living in a very romantic place or time.

Was it pleasurable to be able to mull over the plot with Jocelyn M oorhouse, your producer [with Lynda House] and a writerdirector herself?

Oh, yes! Jocelyn and I came up with the plot together. I think we spent two weeks telling each other the story of Muriel —what she should do and where she should go and what she is feeling.

Jocelyn always brought me back to what a woman would do in the circumstance, which was invaluable.

We really entertained ourselves when we came up with this story. Then, I had to go off and do it.

How far did M u riel accord with your script ideas when you filmed it? Did it come out how you imagined?

No, it’s very different. I can’t really remember now, because the film is done and its images are fixed in my head. They tend to wipe away how you first thought the film should be.

Did you and [editor] Jill Bilcock work as a team in putting it together?

Oh, yes. In fact, we fought a lot at the very beginning, because we had different ideas of where the film should be going. After one big blow-up, we finally decided on the shape the film should take.

Jill and I have a volatile but rewarding relationship.

I tend to get quite side-tracked by details, whereas Jill sees the overall film. I can play with a scene for days and, if all these wonderful details are on screen, I’m happy. But Jill was actually thinking about where we should be in the story right now.

It is really how I write. It often takes me a long time to throw stuff out. The editing process reminds me of the writing process, except, rather than me warring with myself, there was Jill trying to get this thing going.

You have to cut stuff out. Film is as much what you leave out as what you put in.

Looking back, what sort of effect did Cannes have on you?

Personally, it was very fulfilling. There is nothing like a positive audience response and the response was better than I could have hoped for. It would have to be one of the high points.

W hat about the impact on the film?

That was immense. Ciby [Sales] made sales everywhere. I don’t think there is a territory where we didn’t sell. That really established the film’s reputation.

I’m confident that foreign audiences will enjoy the film, because I think there is a bit of Muriel in everybody. She is a universal character.

W hat made you go to Ciby Sales for investment?

They went for us. They were the only ones who wanted to back the project. They really believed in it from the beginning.

Ciby invests in filmmakers. They consider themselves a direc­ tor’s company and were absolutely the right people for us.

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W hat was your reaction to Todd M cC arthy’s review in V ariety during Cannes?

W hat is next? I recall something about your next project being a thriller.

No, that’s Jocelyn’s project. She is making a thriller. I’m writing what I suppose you’d call a love story. I’m pursuing romance and Jocelyn is killing the lovers. [Laughs.]

Is it different to M u riel’s ?

Yes. In a lot of ways, I feel that M u riel’s might turn out to be atypical of me.

I’m sort of in the script now. Y ou ’ve caught me on a good day.

It’s going quite well, so I’m feeling very positive about it. If you’d rung me two days ago, I would have said, “I don’t think I’ll be doing this one!”

How many hours do you write a day? Do you have a writing pattern?

No, I’m extraordinarily lazy. I’ll do anything rather than write, so the house gets very clean when I’m writing. I’ll do the dishes and vacuum and all sorts of stuff.

I try to write at least five or six hours a day, but there are some days when nothing comes and I don’t write anything, or I write for hours and the next day read it back and throw it out.

Who are the people you admire in film?

There is not a director that I could name, all of whose films I love.

I think that there are just particular films that mean a lot to me.

B on n ie a n d Clyde [Arthur Penn, 1967], is one of my favour^ ites. C ab aret [Bob Fosse, 1972], T he M anchurian C an didate [John Frankenheim er, 1 9 6 2 ], A ll A b o u t E v e [Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1950], L a w ren ce o f A rab ia [David Lean, 1962] they are an eclectic bunch.

No European films?

Oh, there are. Those were just the first ones that sprung to mind.

No, I love W om en in L o v e [Ken Russell, 1969] and T h e C on ­ form ist [II C on form ista, Bernardo Bertolucci, 1971] which I think is one of the great movies. 8 1/2 [O tto e M ezz o , Federiqo Fellini, 1963] is also a wonderful film. I’ve seen it 10 or 11 times and I still feel visually overwhelmed.

You obviously believe in entertainment, because they are all very entertaining and good films.

Yes I do, though “entertainment” can be used pejoratively. A lot of people can be entertained by absolutely cruddy films.

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THAT EYE THE SKY A w ard winning director John Ruane has been making films in Melbourne for twenty years. His most recent feature That Eye The Sky starring Peter Coyote, is screening at Critics Week at the Venice Film Festival.

“Melbourne’s a great city to film in. It’s got diversity of locations on its doorstep from the desert country of That Eye The Sky to fabulous alpine scenery and dramatic coastline, not to mention the gritty inner city streets that could be anywhere in Paris or New York. It’s no accident MELBOURNE FILM OFFICE 4 9 SPRING STREET

that w e’ve earned an enviable reputation for high quality work here. There’s a thriving community of

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filmmakers and first-rate technical services and AUSTRALIA 3 0 0 0

facilities to back us up. Why shoot anywhere else TELEPHONE 61 3 6 5 1 4 0 8 9 FACSIMILE 61 3 6 5 1 4 0 9 0

when you’ve got so much going for you at hom e?’

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Only the B rave provides clear evidence that there is inspired ferment in that so often marginalized area of Australian film production, the short film.

Directed by Ana Kokkinos, co-scripted by Kokkinos and Mira Robertson, and produced in association with the Australian Film Commission and the Independent Filmmakers’ Fund of Film Victoria, this is a tough and confronting film. Yet it has been overwhelmed with accolades everywhere it has been screened.

At the recent Melbourne Film Festival, O nly the B rave won the City of Melbourne Grand Prix for Best Film and the Film Victoria Erwin Rado Award for Best Australian Film. At the Sydney Film Festival, it won the Dendy Award for Best Short Fiction Film. At the San Francisco International Gay and Lesbian

LEFT: ALEX (ELENA MANDALIS), THE PROTAGONIST OF ANA KOKKINOS' ONLY THE BRAVE. BELOW: DIRECTOR ANA KOKKINOS ON SET WITH ELENA MANDALIS.

Film Festival, it won the Audience Award for Best Feature. It also earned an Awgie nomination for the script. It has been invited to festivals at Venezia, Toronto, Vancouver, Montréal and Lon­ don. It has also been nominated to compete in the AFI Awards categories for Best Short Fiction, Best Screenplay and Best Performance for the actress who plays Alex, Elena Mandalis.

Only the B rave traces the disintegration of a friendship between two Greek girls, Alex and Vicki (Dora Kaskanis). It is also a rites-of-passage story in which the protagonist, Alex, struggles to understand herself and transcend the limitations of life in M elbourne’s western suburbs.

At first we recognize the image of a full moon. The camera finds a group of girls about to torch a hedge. The hedge is engulfed in flames, burning violently out of control, silhouetting the girls against the explosive orange glow. Two of the girls, coughing and spluttering, move away from the smoke and flames, leaving Vicki, dancing trance-like, and Alex, proudly admiring her handiwork. The warm orange glow borders on being almost romantic —quite contradictory to the reality of its source. Such evocative contradictions pierce the heart of this tale.

Like the moon suspended, stranded in the dark night sky, we can feel the apparently irreconcilable distance between the girls’ dreams and their realization. . One of the most striking things about the film is liaison of disparate spaces. The world is simultaneously surreal and ab­ stract, and painfully, grindingly real. The ubiquitous petro­ chemical plant belches smoke into the background. Yet at night its lights could be mistaken for the stars. Thè girls, laughing on the ground, wish on a falling star that hasn’t fallen. They are anxious to dream, to be something or some place else. Trains incessantly spin pasty animating the background, compressing

the space. Flashing grey green lights within burrow underground into tunnels, into darkness, into oblivion. In her dreams, Alex is on the train, fleetingly catching sight of her lost mother. A hazy vision of a mother in a red dress, with her child, recurs, dominat­ ing silent spaces.

Lyrical dreams and visions, yet they are grounded in hard, cold realities. About half-way through the film, there is a violent fight between two ex-friends in the school toilet block. The space is steely blue amidst the lines of walls and doors, soft and less distinct. Other students remain shadowy presences, spectators to the sport. Some are sitting on top of doors, legs suspended and swinging. Others just seem to be there, hauntingly, almost indifferent. Alex hasn’t provoked the fight. Her ex-friend, Tammi (Peta Brady), is responsible, accusing Alex of a clandestine lesbian relationship with their English teacher. It’s painful, desperate and claustrophobic. Alex beats Tammi into submis­ sion, almost knocking her out. Exhausted she retreats to the mirrors at the far end of the toilet block. Suddenly a pipe appears, almost ritualistically, and is passed amongst the girls. Out of the frame, Tammi rises to cowardly and savagely attack Alex. But at the last moment Vicki turns, and comes to Alex’s rescue before Tammi can do any sustained damage. This is one of many betrayals that formally structure the drama. It repeats, and will be repeated again.

The brilliant casting of the two girls and their fine, detailed performances are critical to the success and poetic realism of this film. Alex and Vicki are unglamorous, although not unattractive.

Slightly bulky and wide-hipped, their clothes are dark and fashionably shabby. Their hair is long and unkempt. Their houses are modest, their lives dominated by circumstances, circumscribed by fate. The places they meet at, away from school, CINEMA

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VICKI (DORA KASKANIS). ONLY THE BRAVE.

are the streets at night, anonymous parties, toilet blocks, railway tracks, a derelict farm house, and a vandalized train carriage.

Alex, under-aged, goes with her father to the Headbanger’s Bar, to play pool and hang out with his mates.

Their characters are skilfully layered. While the shapes of their faces, their bodies, are so tangible, another dimension altogether is evoked through their words and the sound of their voices. The sparse, precise dialogue, spiked with colloquialisms and clichés, and the long spaces where no one talks are resonant with meaning. The eloquent script is full of restrained, powerfully understated exchanges. Others’ words pattern the dreams and forms of their longings. “Seasons of Change” is a memento of Alex’s mother, a song she once performed, maybe still performs.

In a moment of fantasy and yearning, Vicki puts on Alex’s mother’s red dress and sings this song. Conjuring up the mother long gone, she gives voice to the loss and the lost.

Words and their construction play a central role in other ways as well. It is Alex’s own words (writ­ ing) that we witness, but never ac­ tually hear, that become the most powerfully felt in the film. There are also two scenes, both at school, where Alex reads aloud, not her own words, but someone else’s. The first, at her teacher’s request, is a passage from William Golding’s L o r d o f the Flies, that ever-present high-school literature text about civilized English public schoolboys who become savages when their escaping wartime plane crash lands on an island, and the boys are left to

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fend for themselves, without paren­ tal supervision. Alex’s reading is admired and praised by her English te a ch e r, K ate G roves (M aude Davey), but the irony of the book’s subject matter is quietly present.

The next time Alex reads aloud, for us and for the others, it is an erotic passage from Anais N in’s story, W om an on the D unes. It is a book she ‘borrowed’ on trust from Kate.

Alex reads while Vicki enacts, sexu­ ally gyrating and gesturing on top of her school desk. Kate walks in to (discover) Alex’s betrayal, amidst her own public humiliation.

These are moments that come out of nowhere, but are nowhere unexpected - like the poetics of writing that is read, that affects, but remains largely unheard, or the fight scene in the toilet block, that has Tammi rising from defeat, return­ ing from outside of the frame, reappearing only to disappear, winning only to lose. Quietly, the ground under our feet gives way. From the moment Alex strikes the match to torch the hedge, it was her story, her memories, her mother, her struggle for identity and her growing desire to become a writer. Vicki was the wild card, dancing around the flames, fluctuating, unpredictable, until Alex’s discovery of Vicki’s incestuous abuse by her father leads to Vicki’s suicide: tragic, insolent and final. It is then we realize it was Vicki’s story as well, though so much remains forever untold. In the last image of the film, Alex walks alone along the highway, a solitary image but one filled with a sense of hope, of new beginnings.

It is a circuitous route but O nly the B rave is a powerful film that rewards our commitment and attention, and deserves to be seen in the broadest of possible contexts. g THE FIGHT IN THE SCHOOL TOILET BLOCK BETWEEN ALEX AND TAMMI (PETA BRADY). ONLY THE BRAVE

DISTINCTLY AUSTRALIAN INITIATIVE

COMMISSION

The AFC has implemented three new programs under the Federal Government’s Distinctly Australian Initiative to provide further support to the film and television industry.

PRODUCER FELLOWSHIP SCHEME $360,000 is available in amounts from $8,000 to $60,000 to enable producers of differing degrees of experience (but with at least one produced, non-student credit) the chance to: A A A A

Initiate or consolidate their script and project development plans; Underpin overhead and travel costs; Link professional attachments to other producers and/or organisations with their development plans; or Propose other relevant initiatives with demonstrable career benefits.

Producers should submit carefully budgeted proposals at a level within the range which reflects their career achievements to date.

Closing date for applications 7 October 1994 -

SCREENWRITING FELLOWSHIP SCHEME A total of $235,000 is available under the following two Fellowship schemes for writers.

Writing Fellowships Up to four Fellowships of up to $40,000 for one year are available for writers who wish to step aside from commissioned work to write a screenplay of great personal importance.

Writers of considerable industry standing with a body of well regarded, produced work should apply with a letter outlining their proposal. Normal project-based assessment criteria will not apply.

Profect Fellowships Up to five Fellowships of up to $15,000 are available for writers to undertake a specific script, craft, or project initiative highly focussed to their career needs and yielding tangible benefits. Examples of initiatives the Fellowship could support are: developing a script proposal; a structured attachment to a studio or filmmaker; or a visit to an organisation such as the Sundance Institute.

Closing date for applications 4 November 1994 -

SCRIPT AND STORY EDITING FELLOWSHIP SCHEME Up to $125,000 is available in the form of five fellowships (of up to $15,000 each) in Australia and two fellow­ ships (of up to $25,000 each) overseas for script and story editors to develop their skills via attachment to experienced Australian or overseas writers, production companies, or (for less experienced editors) other script editors.

Script and story editors with varying degrees of professional, related industry experience may apply.

Applicants will be expected to initiate and negotiate their own attachments to companies, writers or editors prior to application to the AFC, and an interest will be taken in proposals which are feature film oriented.

Closing date for applications 2 December 1994 -

For further information, guidelines and application forms for the above schemes please contact either: Fiona Robson The Australian Film Commission SYDNEY (02) 321 6444 or (008) 22 6615

The Australian Film Commission MELBOURNE (03)279 340 or (008) 33 8430

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Back in Australia after his

French-made The Favor The Watch & The Very Big Fish* writer-director Ben Lewin has just completed another comedy, Lucky Break.

Produced by Bob Weis and majority financed by the Australian Film Finance Corporation, Lucky Break was shot early this year in Melbourne by OOP Vince Mpiï|i§i Ben Lewin describes the plot as a classic “girli meets boy, girl loses boy, girl gets boy back again”v 38 - C I N E M A

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LEFT: PLUMMETING OVER A BALCONY. SOPHIE (GIA CARIDES) FACES HER FAU WITH TERROR. LUCKY BREAK. BELOW: WRITER-DIRECTOR BEN LEWIN.

What was the genesis of this film?

Am I allowed to side-step questions, as well as answer them fullfrontally?

As long as it’s good copy! Would you like me to rephrase the question?

Sophie (Gia Carides) meets Eddie (Anthony LaPaglia) and they have a tantalizing conversation. But there is something Sophie doesn’t want Eddie to know: she is disabled with polio.

Despite this, Sophie can’t get Eddie out of her head. She pursues him and, in the course of that pursuit, she breaks her leg. People now think that she is only temporarily\n\ured and, as a result, her personality changes. Sophie decides that as a ‘normal’ person she can achieve her dream ...

Lewin himself developed polio from an early age, and several commenta­ tors have naturally interpreted the plot of Lucky Break as somewhat autobiographical.

On reading a transcript of the following interview, Lewin is no longer so sure. He believes the film has taken on its own life and that the autobiographical influences are barely, if at all, discernible. The following interview, therefore, is best read as a discussion on a work in process, and not necessarily as an analysis of a completed work.

No, I’ll just side-step it.

Everyone asks about the genesis as if the first time you thought of an idea is the most important point. Usually it is not.

There is always a period when a person who makes films is searching for ideas; you try this and you try that. It’s not as if you have a moment of “Eureka, I’ve found the next idea!” and that has a direct continuity to making the movie. The whole thing goes in stop/start stages. At a certain point, there might be five ideas on the plate, any one of which has a chance of making it. It’s like a litter of pups and there are a couple of survivors.

Although it makes a cute story, the genesis of this idea is no different from the genesis of any other idea, like “I have to make another movie to get my life back on the rails.”

Since you’re dealing with a more literate audience - yes? - I want to side-step that question and say it didn’t start at a certain point. I’ve only identified a point for the sake of being able to tell a story about it. And that is where I said, “No, this is not going to be an autobiographical rites-of-passage, growing-up-in-sub­ urbia movie. It’s going to be a much more objectified view of the experience. ” I turned it round from something that was looking at me to something that was only using me.

How, then, did the character of Sophie evolve?

The character started as a handicapped woman. She has a lowerlimb disability, which forces her to walk on crutches. Technically it’s identified as polio, but that’s just to put audience minds at rest.

From there, it went towards a story about a character who is CI NEMA PAPERS

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SOPHIE AND EDDIE (ANTHONY LAPAGLIA) LOOK ON WORRIEDLY AS EDDIES LAWYER (PAUL KARO) HOLDS COURT. BEN LEWINS LUCKY BREAK.

a writer, who lives much of her life in a fantasy world. It is much more exotic and much more of a turn-on then her real world. The film is therefore about how she has to find reality, instead of dreams, in order to really cope with life. I don’t know how loftily I should put it, but in another sense it’s a story about a woman’s dream that comes true.

The element of her disability becomes just a part of that story so you can understand why a lot of people prefer a fantasy world.

I suppose the main arc of the film for me is a trip away from being a “ disease of the week” type subject to being a look into the mind of a fascinating character who has difficulty coping with reality, preferring dreams instead, and how a man comes into her life whom she mistakes for a dream character and then becomes a real character.

At what point did you know the character of Sophie had become her own person?

In my mind, she’s never entirely become her own person, because as I did every scene I associated how I would feel.

So it’s profoundly personal?

No, it’s not profoundly personal. It’s personal in the way that every film I’ve made is personal, though I did have to control myself from projecting my reactions and my motivations onto Sophie.

We had to do a scene, for example, after Eddie realizes that she is not temporarily handicapped but permanently. He comes back, having changed his mind through reconciliation. It is a scene in which both characters have to express quite a lot of anger for each other and, at the same time, the sense that they are attached, that they can’t see life without each other.

In the course of this reconciliation, Sophie hits him with her crutch. Now that is something I’ve never in my whole life considered doing. I regard it as a very shocking thing, but I had to let the character doit. My pro j ecting what I would or wouldn’t do would have been a hindrance, because in this sort of situation it’s clearly not me but Gia Carides giving her interpretation of Sophie.

Is that her interpretation or was the gesture something you wrote into the script?

No, I didn’t write it into the script. W hat I said to Gia was, “This is a moment of reconciliation between you. There is no form of words that contains the blinding truth of this moment. You know you can use some words. You can use as many of them or as few of them as you like to show us that you are both angry at each other, but you want to be together.”

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It’s a physical thing, so there was never anything in the script that says she hits him with her crutch. I don’t think I would have written that! But we tried it and hopefully it works, and that it will be a shocking enough thing for us to really believe what she feels about this man.

I don’t know if that answers your question of how personal the film is. Sure, I’m in there every moment thinking how I would feel, how I would react, because I know what it’s like to be a writer and to be handi­ capped; I know what it’s like from my point of view to be looking for a sex life ... I’ve put that crudely... to be out there trying to make happiness for oneself like everybody else does. But it still doesn’t change the fact that the thing happens organically and at a certain point is out of my control.

In terms of the “be yourself” moral, where does that third-eye view that Sophie should realize she is as normal as anybody else come from? Is that something that you believe in?

Yes. It’s definitely an editorial point of view and it’s not a very difficult thing for me to cope with. The moral is that at a certain point in your life you have to come to terms with what you are; you have to live with that.

When did that happen to you?

I’m not sure it has happened! The complication is being a writer, and, once I discovered a fantasy world, it obviously became a very attractive place to be. There is a part of me that is always a little bit removed from reality, and, although what the movie is saying is “be yourself; come to terms with who you are”, there is a level at which it’s also saying this character is a writer, and in one way she is incurable!

There is a sense in which people who are physically disabled are going to respond differently. They bring a whole different range of sensitivity to what able-bodied people will bring. People who are writers will respond to it in another way, too.

Now, I’m not trying to make a documentary about handi­ capped people or writers, so there’s a way in which both those elements are used dramatically rather than authentically. But the idea that reality feeds fantasy, and vice versa, is the bread and butter of how writers behave.

How much humour is there in the film?

I hope it is a balance between laughing and crying: you don’t always laugh out loud and you don’t always cry literally. But I suppose to some extent I can claim to understand the mentality of the disabled - as if there were one mentality! You know there is obviously not, but there are common denominators, things that you find very common. One of them is a sort of self-mocking humour. You classically find it in the Steady Eddie act. He has Cerebral Palsy, and he stands up at RSL Clubs and makes jokes about being a spastic. It’s about as in-your-face as you can get.

That is definitely what I would describe as self-mocking humour.

I suppose the fact that the film is a comedy makes a very clear statement that Sophie is not a character in search of sympathy.

She doesn’t need it. She is an incredible go-getter and, in her own way, dangerous. And the plot, to a large extent, is driven by comic moments. Breaking her leg is a tragic moment, but, at the same time, it is a very funny moment. It’s the vehicle for the rest

of the story. All of a sudden we are into the third act and that it’s not quite like you expected is expressed by comic events which sometimes have very serious results.

For example, I remember when I was about 10 or 11 years old exploring on my crptches the neighbourhood of East Coburg, where I lived. I found a patch of road which had just been tarred, so I tentatively put my crutch into the tar and, of course, it slipped and the whole of me ended up face down in the tar. It wasn’t then terribly hot fortunately, but it was wet and sticky, and one of my friends, an older boy, came and rescued me. I can tell you that at the time it was for me a truly tragic moment. I didn’t feel funny at all! But there is no way, standing back and looking at it, that it’s not an hilarious moment, even for me.

In retrospect, it was me discovering the world and I find it much easier and much more true to life to depict turning points as moments of comedy. They are the equivalent of moments of tragedy, too, if you like, but I find them more poignant as moments of comedy because you are not asking for anyone’s sympathy. You are saying this is what happened to the character.

You are not saying, “I want you to play a violin at the same time”; you really let the events speak for themself.

So would you call it a universal film, as distinct from interna­ tional?

You are culturally a European Jew . Do you feel your cultural links are with Europe?

I don’t think I do a lot of laconic understatement. Would that be true?

I feel like more of a Gypsy than anything else at the moment, but what you’ve made is a statement of fact. I’m a Jew who was born in Europe and I still feel a lot of connection to Europe. It’s a place where I’ve spent a lot of time. We migrated to Australia in 1949.

I then went to do my voyage of discovery as a young man from 1971 and for the past 20 years I’ve been wandering - not wandering in search for something, but actually enjoying the experience of having a home in more than one place. I don’t quite know where that puts me. I’m very Australian when I’m not in Australia.

I wanted to ask you about an overview comment on filmmaking.

What is the challenge and reward in making a film?

Do the things you associate with when you were growing up remain with you for a long time?

GLORIA (REBECCA GIBNEY) IS SANDWICHED BETWEEN WORKMEN AFTER HER INJURY. LUCKY BREAK.

Yes, but try and pin down the nationality of T he P iano [Jane Campion, 1993]. As far as I know, no one in the world out there has called it an “unmistakably New Zealand film”, or Austral­ ian, or American, or any damn thing. It really does seem to sit in a place of its own, because it’s not attempting to fit into any genre.

I think it’s not so much a question of the nationality of films or the cultural connection of films that people look for these days, it’s the genre. An Australian action film has the same credibility as an American action film if it has as much action. The same for science fiction, whatever. The cultural connection of films is really less and less relevant these days. Films have become internationalized and it’s not so easy to say “T he Piano is a Kiwi film .”

There are, however, Australian points of reference for comedy.

W hat’s Australian? I can’t think of an Australian comic thing.

Well, the laconic understatement that Paul Hogan uses in C ro co ­ d ile D u n dee [Peter Faiman, 1986] is highly representative of an Australian comedic style.

I don’t know how informative or insightful this is going to be to anyone because it’s really just stream-of-consciousness stuff.

I used to get tremendous kicks out of writing because no one gave a damn what I wrote, how much money it was worth or anything else. It was a great joy to have it published in the D ingo L an e literary society rag and all that ever happened was that people praised you.

In that sense, yes, my norms are European norms.

When we arrived here, Australians were the foreign­ ers and strangers, and I’ve still never adopted some of those things we noticed when we first arrived, which were regarded as “we don’t do those sort of things”.

For example, drunkenness never existed in my family.

But humour does, I presume.

Yes. European Jews have a very long and glorified comedic tradition. Did you ever feel in this film, because it is out and out a romantic comedy, you had to go through that cultural sifting process?

Yeah, I think I’ve come away from that a bit. I know that in my earlier stuff it was kind of full-on folksy, with European-like symbols. You could sort of say, “Well, here’s Lewin trying to be a bit like Sholom Aleichem.” But I don’t think this film is really like that. It’s less idiosyncratic. It’s still an unusual film, but it hasn’t got lots of little gratuitous details which represent, say, a little corner of my steppes of Russia.

I think this steps away from cosy European stuff.

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Writing screenplays has now taken on a completely different complexion in that, every time I have to make a decision to write a screenplay, I have to figure whether this decision is going to represent a sound investment for the next three years of my life.

In the old days, my preoccupation with a subject was plenty of reason to write something about it; now it’s perhaps a reason to be cautious about it!

When I was still practising the law, every time I went to court it was to do what someone had told me to do, basically. I didn’t mind that, but the lure of writing particularly, and directing as well, was that it was self-expression. I could indulge my ego for the rest of my life and this would generate a living. Well, that’s proved to be something of a falsehood and you become basically a gun for hire if you are really to make a living out of it. This is the dilemma. Here I was trying to escape from the situation of being a gun for hire, but the more you want to succeed in anything the more you have to become one, in some way or another.

At the same time, compared to what other people have to endure, this is a life of untold indulgence, luxury and freedom of choice.

Every now and then you don’t realize how much of that you have and you need to step back and look at the meaning of life again.

Is making the film vastly different from writing it? W hat are the specific pleasures of making the film?

I don’t know why people associate this sort of work with pleasure. I can’t. It’s a real strain to see where pleasure can come into the description.

I really hesitate to make the comparison seriously, but did anyone ask Michelangelo whether it was a pleasure for him to paint the Sistine Chapel. I suspect if they asked him he’d say, “I’ve never had such a nightmare in my whole fucking life.”

All right, but presumably at the end of it, when he stood back and looked up and said, “Ah, that’s not bad”, there was a kick.

I don’t know. We had a very brilliant architect design the renovation to our house. To this day, he has never seen the results and never wants to. T hat’s sometimes the way I feel about a film.

You know, “ Get thee behind me. You’re done; get out of my life. ” I only watch it because I’m forced to, screening after screening.

One is drawn to the conclusion, then, that you are doing this only because it pays your bills?

probably trying to shock people. [See box.]

There is an element of truth in that, but it’s only true if you don’t really care. And I suppose there are directors who are journeymen directors and, “Fine, who gives a damn whether the performance is any good. They’ve asked me to do that shot. I do it.” Bang, it becomes part of the great river of visual junk that rolls by us every day of our lives. But if you take it to heart, then it’s an ordeal.

Do you feel you have dealt with being disabled?

Is this a personal question, or to do with the film?

A personal question.

A personal question because of the film ...

It’s an unanswerable question: How do you deal with being disabled? You don’t eliminate it, you incorporate it in your life.

Your dealing with it means that you survive to a ripe old age. I’ve made it to a reasonable age so far, but I don’t know what dealing with it means. People can go nuts without being disabled; people cannot deal with all sorts of things.

You haven’t been disadvantaged by it?

No, if anything, I’ve probably gained a point or two here and there. I haven’t been disadvantaged in the long term. Who knows what you miss out on if you don’t know what it is.

On the other hand, I’d say that being a writer is the greatest handicap I have to cope with. Being a writer is an illness I haven’t cured yet. Maybe that’s what has to be dealt with.

FILMOGRAPHY (partial) As director (features) 1989 Georgia - also co-writer 1991 The Favor The Watch & The Very Big Fish - also writer 1994 Lucky Break - also writer As director (other) 1984 The Dunera Boys (mini-series) - also writer 1984 The Migrant Experience (documentary series) 1985 Rafferty’s Rules (series) - creator, a director 1986 Adam’s Australia (documentary, UK) 1987 A Matter o f Convenience (tele-feature) —also writer Also, 1980 The Groom’s Tale (television) - writer

No, I’m doing it because I’ve become obsessed with it. It takes an obsessive, compulsive character to do this kind of work.

And you wouldn’t do anything else?

I’d happily do other things but I’d return to this as it’s what I really want to do.

O f course it has pleasure, but it’s the same as a marriage. Do you think a marriage is pleasure all the time, particularly if you have children and mortgages, and so on. But there are moments when you are able to step back from it and actually enjoy the experience and say, “Hey, this is really worthwhile.”

Filmmaking is a bit the same. When you count the moments in filmmaking which are observably creative moments, they represent perhaps the same relation as the orgasm does to the total sex ritual! D on’t draw that analogy out too far, but I marvel when people ask me whether I enjoy what I am doing. “Was it fun? It must be fun.” I won’t answer. It’s really an ordeal.

I watched this interview with Orson Welles. He said directing is just this biggest lie in the world. They all think it’s difficult, but it’s easy, it’s nothing. Theoretically that is true. Just get everyone else to do it for you and all I ever do, apparently, is say “C ut” every half hour of so! But it depends whether you take it to heart or not. I mean, I can’t believe that when Orson Welles was in the thick of making T ou ch o f E vil that he had this light-hearted attitude of “Hey, it’s the easiest job in the world. Everyone’s doing it for m e.” He said that after 30 or 40 years and was 42 ■ C I N E M A

PAPERS

101

1

This is Orson Welles, Orson Welles and Peter Bogdanovich, states the documentary went to air in 1980, but the copyright on the programme is 1982.

Kine Recording — the next instalment Following on last issue’s survey of digital film transfers comes news that Cinevex is now launching its own kine - tape to film - service. I screened a 16mm demo roll at Atlab, and spoke with Grant Millar and Chris Sturgeon,

but not crushed. There was still good gradation in the shadows. With the rich blacks came strong colour saturation. Television raster lines were quite invisible - that should go w ithout saying in any modern kine transfer - but it was

Manager and Technical Manager respectively, of Cinevex.

still possible to see the “steppy” effect of the television line image structure in gradually slop­ ing lines. As a result - I suspect - of the lack of line structure, the image was not outstandingly sharp, but, after all, this is ordinary television

Unlike the “top-end” digital film transfers of­ fered in Sydney, which are mainly aimed at the

high-definition wide-screen television and 35mm

te le v is io n /c in e m a

stock launches at SMPTE).

c o m m e rc ia l b u s in e s s ,

Cinevex claim s its process is aimed at longer-

Currently Cinevex - which developed the

form program m e m aterial. M illar suggested film

system together with Lemac - shoots on 16mm

festival entries of video-finished productions,

negative stock, but, if demand for 35mm grows,

where a single 16mm print was all that would

Cinevex claim s it will be easy to switch over to

ever be required, or corporate productions where

provide 35mm directly from the tape instead of

a film projector m ight give a better image to a

a tw o-stage transfer and blow-up.

large audience than video projection. (Although

How does it work? Grant and Chris remain

h a v in g se en th e m a g n ific e n t re s u lts of

very tight-lipped about the process: it’s not

Hagem eyer’s Hughes-JVC video projector at

even clear whether they are using off-the-shelf

the SMPTE conference sessions, it’s hard to

technology or have incorporated th eir own de­

imagine that many kine transfers will be or­

velopm ents. The video image is processed to

dered for this latter purpose.) However, there

produce the contrast required by the film, and to

are many other applications: for example, video

achieve the line interpolation, through fram e

footage to be incorporated in film productions.

stores rather than in real time, but the system

Two current exam ples at Cinevex are a five-

delivers images in not much less than real time.

minute section of a television “Wheel of For­

It’s all at 25 fram es per second - one fram e of

tune” show to be included in the feature A ngel

video equals one fram e of film. It’s tem pting to

Baby, and stunt footage from miniature “lip­

speculate on what techniques Cinevex have

stick” video cameras for a documentary.

used, but no one can stay silent fo r ever and, if

Curiously, C inevex’s demo roll consisted

FOUR FRAMES SHOWING WHAT CINEVEX'S KINE PROCESS CAN DO.

and 16mm film (seen shortly after a week of

this service succeeds as it deserves to, then

m ainly of television prom otional reels, with lots

before long they’ll be bursting to show off all

of standard digital video effects, fast cutting,

their secrets.

and very little that dwelt on the screen long

And the price? This is a real treat fo r budget­

enough for me to properly assess the quality of

conscious producers. At $169 per m inute for

the transfer. Having said that, though, the reel

16mm negative and work print (with a five

had a m ixture of film -sourced and Betacam

minute minimum), C inevex’s kines bring those

footage of variable workaday quality, rather

video segm ents within reach, although I don’t

than being entirely exquisite test m aterial. The

see television com m ercial producers switching

first thing I noticed was the rich blacks - darker

to this adm ittedly lower quality system fo r their

than some other transfers I’ve seen recently -

cinema release to save a thousand dollars or so.

CINEMA

PAPERS

101

• 43

SCREEN FROM THE KEŸLINK SYNCING SYSTEM. CAPTURING FILM TIMECODE.

on any frame, with

generated either at the VTR or within the Keylink

no need at all of a

system, is stored, together with the on-film data

clapperboard. Natu­

and other data entered either by the transfer

ra lly ,

__ Timecode on Film; the Aaton Craft of Syncing

as w ith

all

operator or from the database created on set, in

tim e c o d e , s e v e ra l

Aaton Keylink computer logs. These files can

seconds of pre-roll is

be transferred into other systems for editing or

needed forthe sound

negative matching by the industry standard

to reach sync (a l­

FLeX format. This allows logs to be swapped

though you can use

betw een Aaton K e ylink L ightw orks, Avid,

this tape time for ver­

Excalibur and TLC systems.

bal IDing each take).

For clock watchers, almost all of the logging

What about slate information: scene and

information can also be burnt in to up to 11

take number, etc? Optionally, that can be en­

windows on the videotapes, and a limited amount

tered on a portable computer, or the BVE Log­

can be encoded into the user bits of the VITC

g e r - a hand-held data storing device that logs

timecode recorded on the videotape.

data against its own timecode.

After processing the negative comes the

Atlab’s view is that the Aaton Keylink will speed up the syncing operation, giving them a

Syncing film, audio and videotape seems to

telecine transfer, conventionally with syncing

clear advantage as it re-enters the telecine

occupy a remarkable amount of the industry’s

sound either during expensive telecine time, or

transfer business. With many of these inte­

attention. The old technique of a wooden clapper

as a separate procedure afterwards. This time,

grated systems, there is a rigorous need for all

and rubber edge numbers on the sprocketed

however, the machines take over. The telecine

stages to conform to the same equipment stand­

sound tapes worked well enough in simpler

machine is fitted with an Aaton Keylink reader,

ards: easy enough for big vertically-integrated

times, but the mechanics of marrying up the film

a miniature video camera which reads the dot

studio systems, but where every production

and audio tracks at rushes and-Xeeping them in

matrix pattern on the film. The Keylink compu­

goes through its own combination of production

sync during the edit have always been a bit

ter system and the telecine behave as masters,

crew, lab, tape house and post-production facil­

clumsy and contrived. The added complica­

and the sound, in a Sony 7030 DAT recorder/

ity, the chances of getting everyone’s system to

tions of matching a film frame to a video frame

player, slaves in “chase” mode. At the start of

match are slim. It’s hard to imagine DOPs

- by way of Keykode and timecode - have

each take (identified automatically on the film,

choosing to shoot Aaton purely for convenience

generally been dealt with less than clearly.

as the timecode starts at a new value), the

in post-production (although there are many

After several phases of development, Aaton’s

system reads the film timecode, backs up a few

other reasons). However, Keylink can still be

in-camera timecode system now seems to be a

seconds, creating an artificial pre-roll timecode for the film, while the DAT shuttles to find the

used effectively even without timecode-on-film.

solution that offers a way forward, rather than just another system to add to confusion. The

matching timecode on audio. Once located, the

reason for this is that it addresses the audio-to-

two machines roll, with the DAT locked in sync

RIGHT: AATON XTR CAMERA; MONITOR SHOWING AATON TIMECODE

image syncing issue, but the same technology

to the image being transferred.

ON FILM; LAPTOP COMPUTER RUNNING SHOTLISTER FOR ON-SET

can be used for full negative logging, and later

Usually, editors will require video timecode

for video-to-negative matching. John Bowring

in addition to the film ’s time-of-day code. This,

of Lemac has produced a demonstration video that explains the system, and, with the news that Atlab will be using the Aaton Keylink telecine code reader as part of its Digital Cou­ rier (see Cinema Papers’ last issue), it seems possible that the system may at last realize its full potential in Australia.

The system works in three stages: on the set, syncing during telecine transfer, and trans­ ferring shot data into a post-production sys­ tem.

On the set, timecode generators in the cam­ era, the sound recorder and any others are all synced to the same “time of day” time. As the c a m e ra ru n s, it e x p o s e s a d o t m a trix checkerboard pattern into each frame of nega­ tive (on 16mm between the perforations; on 35mm outside the perfs and opposite the manu­ facturer’s barcode). This pattern carries the timecode for that frame, together with other data such as date and camera ID. Once each second, the matrix is replaced by a humanreadable form of the timecode. The sync sound tapes or DAT cartridges carry the same timecode, so later it will be possible to sync up 44 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

101

THE KIT FOR AATON KEYLINK LOGGING. CLOCKWISE FROM TOP

SCRIPT LOGGING; COMPUTER RUNNING KEYLINK SYSTEM; BVE LOGGER TO CAPTURE TIMECODE LOGS; AND DENECKE TIMECODE SLATE. FOR THOSE WHO STILL LIKE A CLAPPER TO CLAP.

to be in t fo r ÂŤ4

~

of copies of this acclaimed book Published by Allen & Unwin in association with the Australian Film Commission RRP

$24.95

BACK

ISSUES: lì

CINEMA Hi

NUMBER 2 0 (MARCH-APRIL 1979)

NUMBER 4 6 (JULY 1984)

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

Paul Cox, Russell Mulcahy, Alan J. Pakula, Robert Duvall, Jeremy Irons, Eureka Stockade, Waterfront, The Boy In The Bush,A Woman Suffers, Street Hero.

NUMBER 2 2 (JULY/AUG 1979)

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NUMBER 25 (FEB/MARCH 1980)

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

NUMBER 2 6 (APRIL/M AY 1980)

NUMBER 1 (JANUARY 1974):

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

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

NUMBER 2 7 (JUNE-JULY 1980)

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

NUMBER 2 (APRIL 1974):

Censorship, Frank Moorhouse, Nicolas Roeg, Sandy Harbutt, Film under Allende, Between The Wars, Alvin Purple

NUMBER 28 (AUG/SEPT 1980)

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

NUMBER 3 (JULY 1974):

Richard Brennan, John Papadopolous, Willis O’Brien, William Friedkin, The True Story Of Eskimo Nell.

NUMBER 2 9 (O CT/NO V 1980)

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

NUMBER 10 (SEPT/OCT 1976)

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

NUMBER 11 (JANUARY 1977)

Emile De Antonio, Jill Robb, Samuel Z. Arkoff, Roman Polanski, Saul Bass, The Picture Show Man. NUMBER 12 (APRIL 1977)

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

NUMBER 13 ( JULY 1977)

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NUMBER 14 (OCTOBER 1977)

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NUMBER 15 (JANUARY 1978)

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NUMBER 16 ( APRIL-JUNE 1978)

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NUMBER 18 (O CT/NO V 1978)

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NUMBER 19 (JAN/FEB 1979)

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

PAPERS

NUMBER 3 6 (FEBRUARY 1982)

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NUMBER 3 7 (APRIL 1982)

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NUMBER 3 8 (JUNE 1982)

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NUMBER 3 9 (AUGUST 1982)

NUMBER 5 6 (MARCH 1986)

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NUMBER 4 0 (OCTOBER 1982)

NUMBER 58 (JULY 1986)

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NUMBER 41 (DECEMBER 1982)

NUMBER 5 9 (SEPTEMBER 1986)

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NUMBER 4 4 -4 5 (APRIL 1984)

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NUMBER 6 3 (M AY 1987)

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NUMBER 7 0 (NOVEMBER 1988)

Film Australia, Gillian Armstrong, Fred Schepisi, Wes Craven, John Waters, A1 Clark, Shame Screenplay Part I. NUMBER 71 (JANUARY 1989)

Yahoo Serious, David Cronenberg, 1988 in Retrospect, Film Sound , Last Temp­ tation of Christ, Philip Brophy NUMBER 7 2 (MARCH 1989)

Charles Dickens’ Little Dorrit, Australian Sci-Fi movies, Survey: 1988 Mini-Series, Aromarama, Ann Turner’s Celia, Fellini’s La dolce vita, Women and Westerns NUMBER 7 3 (M AY 1989)

Cannes ’89, Dead Calm, Franco Nero, Jane Campion, Ian Pringle’s The Prisoner of St. Petersburg, Frank Pierson, Pay TV. NUMBER 7 4 (JULY 1989)

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

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season of Australian film and television at the U C L A film and television archive in the U .S. are now available for sale in Australia. Edited by Scott

NUMBER 7 7 (JANUARY 1990)

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

M urray, and with extensively researched articles by several o f A ustralia’s leading writers on film and televi­ sion, such as K ate Sands, Women o f the Wave; Ross

NUMBER 78 (MARCH 1990)

George Ogilvie’s The Crossing, Ray Argali’s Return Home, Peter Greenaway and The Cook...etc, Michel Ciment, Bangkok Hilton and Barlow and Chambers NUMBER 8 0 (AUGUST 1990)

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

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

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

NUMBER 83 (M AY 1991)

Australia at Cannes, Gillian Armstrong: The Last Days at Chez Nous, Jonathan Demme: The Silence of the Lambs, Flynn, Dead To The World, Marke Joffe’s Spotswood, Anthony Hopkins NUMBER 8 4 (AUGUST 1991)

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

Jocelyn Moorhouse: Proof; Blake Edwards: Switch; Callie Khouri: Thelma & Louise; Independent Exhibition and Distribution in Australia, FFC Part II. NUMBER 8 6 (JANUARY 1992)

Overview of Australian film: Romper Stomper, The Nostradamus Kid, Greenkeeping, Eightball; plus Kathryn Bigelow, HDTV and Super 16.

NUMBER 8 7 (MARCH 1992)

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

NUMBER 88 (MAY-JUNE 1992)

Cannes ’92, Strictly Ballroom, Hammers over the Anvil, Daydream Believer, Wim Wenders’ Until the End of the World, Satyajit Ray. NUMBER 89 (AUGUST 1992)

Cannes ’92, David Lynch, Vitali Kanievski, Gianni Amelio interview, Christopher Lambert in Fortress, FilmLiterature Connections, Teen Movies.

G ibson, Formative Landscapes; Debi Enker, Cross-over NUMBER 9 0 (OCTOBER 1992)

Gillian Armstrong: The Last Days of Chez Nous, Ridley Scott: 1492, Stephan Elliot: Frauds, Giorgio Mangiamele, Cultural Differences and Ethnicity in Australian Cinema, John Frankenheimer’s Year of the Gun. NUMBER 91 (JANUARY 1993)

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

NUMBER 9 2 (APRIL 1993)

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

Australia’s First Films Part 2.

and Collaboration: Kennedy Miller, Scott M urray, George Miller, Scott M urray, Terry Hayes; Graeme T urner, M ixing Fact and Fiction; M ichael Leigh,

Curiouser and Curiouser; Adrian M artin, Nurturing the N ext Wave.

T h e Back o f Beyond Catalogue is lavishly illustrated with m ore than 1 3 0 photographs, indexed, and has full credit listings for some 80 films.

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NUMBER 9 3 (MAY 1993)

Australian films at Cannes, Jane Campion and The Piano, Laurie Mclnnes’ Broken Highway, Tracey Moffat’s Bedevil, Lightworks and Avid debate NUMBER 9 4 (AUGUST 1993)

Cannes Report, Steve Buscemi and Reservoir Dogs, Paul Cox interview, Michael Jenkin’s The Heartbreak Kid, ‘Coming of Age’ films.

NUMBER 95 (OCTOBER 1993)

Lynn-Maree Milburn’s Memories & Dreams, The Science of Previews, John Dingwall and The Custodian, Documen­ tary Supplement including Man Bites Dog, Tom Zubrycki, John Hughes.

NUMBER 9 6 (DECEMBER 1993)

Queensland issue: An overview of film in Queensland, Early Queensland cinema, Jason Donovan and Donald Crombie: Rough Diamonds, The Penal Colony.

NUMBER 9 7 /9 8 (APRIL 1994)

20th Anniversay double issue with New Zealand supplement, industry comments, Simon Wincer’s Lightning Jack, Richard Franklin, The Salvation Army.

NUMBER 9 9 (JUNE 1994)

Australian films at Cannes ’94, Krzysztof Kieslowski, Ken G. Hall Tribute, special Cinematography supplement, Geoffrey Burton, Pauline Chan’s Traps.

NUMBER 100 (AUGUST 1994)

Full report Cannes ’94, special New South Wales supplement, Bernardo Bertolucci’s Little Buddha, Films We Love, The Sum of Us, Spider & Rose, Film and the Digital World.

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T e c h n i c a l i t i e s

Many crew s shoot with tim ecode slates, where the audio tim ecode is displayed on an elec­ tronic slate, frozen when the clapper is closed fo r long enough for an assistant editor (or telecine operator) to read it. Typed in at the telecine transfer stage, this is enough inform a­ tion fo r the audio to chase and find sound sync.

Like many new system s, Keylink changes some of thé traditional responsibilities. On set, it is now the sound recordist Who has sole responsibility fo r establishing sync: w ithout a clapperboard, it’s hard for the camera crew to get in on the act. In post-production, syncing has alw ays béën possible at telecine, but usu­ ally is left until afterw ards in a restriping opera­ tion, often at the post-production facility. In the autom ated “chase sync” operation, the ma­ chine does it, but the job is the responsibility of the telecine operator. R eliability will be the key to this system ’s success.

Digital City The SMPTE ‘94 exhibition and conference has come and gone, and once again the film indus­ try has survived! This year, “film ” exhibitors

THE SONY MICRODAT CASSETTE Fits INTO THE ¡ON-BOARD

The SMPTE Conference

RECORDER IN THE AATON XTR CAMERA FOR ONE-MAN-BAND SHOOTING.

were less noticeable than ever before, with

pany had all those things which may be expend­

As well as the exhibition, the SMPTE show in­

long-standing supporters Kodak and Filmlab

able, but are also indispensable - from raw

cluded a four-day conference. The first day, held

Engineering not exhibiting. As the industry

stock to changing bags to budgeting software.

as a separate seminar at the Australian Film Tel­

moves further tow ards the convergence of te l­

I’m not attempting a review of the SMPTE

evision, videotape and com puters, there’s less

exhibition in these columns - logically, the point of

evision & Radio School (AFTRS), focused on some of the production implications of high-defini­

and less in post-production that is recognizably

an exhibition is “show and tell”, and you have to be

tion, wide-screen television. Demonstrations of

film equipm ent - and only a sm attering of pro­

there to get any benefit. So, if you’re looking for

the European 1250 system, projected in the AFTRS’

duction gear. Barry’s and Sam m y’s together

details of anything that was shown - sorry!

had the biggest stand, with their usual wide

W hat I can do is make an overall observa­

range of equipm ent, headed up by the new

tion. If the SMPTE show continues to represent

Arriflex 535B.

the technical stuff of film and television produc­

Just around the corner, Lemac had a sim i­

tion, then it’s become a much tougher and more

larly eclectic display. One point of interest was

professional m arketplace. At the first SMPTE

an addition to the Aaton XTR super 16 camera,

show, in 1984, all three Sydney labs (then

an am azingly sm all, on-board sound recording

Colorfilm , Cinefilm and Atlab) had stands pro­

system , using Sony M icrodat cassettes. This

moting their services, providing information and

records tim ecode on one track, and a single

expertise, but generally showing the flag fo rth e

channel of digital sound on the other, with up to

industry. Ten years later, even the film stock

main theatre, showed superb quality, and a reel of material from the Winter Olympics at Albertville made it quite clear that, come the year 2000, live sports coverage in wide-screen and high-definition, with stereo sound, and an auditorium full of fans, could have a serious impact on ticket sales for the real events of the Sydney Olympics.

The remaining three days of conference cov­ ered the usual wide range of topics, from the creative use of digital sound manipulation (by Stephen Joyce, of LaTrobe University); through a simple and quite understandable tutorial on MPEG

60 m inutes of sound in one postage stam p­

m anufacturers have withdrawn. Of course, film

sized cassette. Given one sound recordist’s

technology develops differently from electron­

grum ble about DAT cartridges - “T hey’re too

ics - maybe it’s harder to dem onstrate, maybe

Mould - the Treatment of 26 million feet of wet &

easy to tread on” - the biggest technological

it doesn’t need the “all new, more features, buy

mouldy film” given by Michael Newnham of the

problem with this m icro cassette could well be

now or get left out” razzam atazz that tends to

National Film and Sound Archive; to some detailed

the ease with which it will fall down cracks in the

surround the video and com puter industries.

papers on set lighting techniques and equipment.

compression techniques (no mean achievement) given by John Maizels of IBM; and “Images from

But I suspect that the real change has been an

The conference broke away from the more tradi­

increasing polarization of the industry - not

tional division of sessions into “film”, “television”,

between “film ” and “video” , but between the

and “sound” to a format of “image capture” , “image

Grip equipm ent was also to be found at

technology and the craft, between the techno­

manipulation and digital technology” and “broad­

C inekinetic, with its array of sim ple but effective

junkies and the artisans. It’s true I saw a few

casting”, forcing audiences to consider a bit more

camera supports, from beanbags to the Microlite

people like Geoff Burton and Mike Honey around

the process, a bit less the medium.

Jib. Rosco and MediaVision provided the choices

who still bridge the gap and, if you’re reading

Texts of all the papers have been collected and

in lighting, w hile Audio Services C orporation

this column, you’re probably still on the bridge,

are published in a bound volume. Copies are

had an im pressive range of gadgets fo r the

too. But the technology has become an end in

available from Belinda Loveridge, at Expertise

sound recordist. The Expendable Supply Com ­

itself fo r more people than it used to be.

Event, on (02) 976 3245.

floor.

M iller Professional Products com pleted the trio of big names.

CINEMA

PAPERS

101 - 4 9

T a c h n i c a l i t i e

CONVERGING TECHNOLOGIES AND NEWTON’S THIRD LAW OF MOTION ____ or: The close-up, the cutaway, and the freeze-frame.

editing, resulting in a change of direction in both. Action leads to reaction.

Only the most fervent Luddites would claim that this is a bad thing for film editors. Non­

[THE FOLLOWING PAPER, FIRST PRESENTED AT THE CONFERENCE, IS REPRODUCED HERE BY PERMISSION

linear editing has dem onstrated a num ber of

OF THE AUSTRALIA (NORTH) SECTION OF SMPTE.]

great advantages for the editing process: edi­

D O M IN IC CASE

tors find that the tim e to a first assem bly is dram atically shortened, that they can try out

This is not a paper about engineering hard­

equipment. Specialized standards have devel­

ware: it’s about the way hardware is used. The

oped for the com puter data display application,

points I want to make are relevant when any

and th ey are quite ind ep en d en t from the

new technology is introduced, but I’m looking

colorimetry, scan rate and line structure of broad­

specifically at the recent massive changes in

cast television. However, starting with things

film production and post-production. Non-linear

like Atari and Nintendo games, com puter peo­

editing has been adopted in the film and video

ple discovered that they could manage pictures

industry faster than any comparable innova­

on their screens as well as lines of text.

different cuts with great flexibility, and they can show the director several different versions of a sequence straight away one after the other w ithout losing the first cut. Editors say that non­ linear editing doesn’t necessarily lead to a quicker cut, or a cheaper cut, but it certainly can lead to a b etter cut.

Of course, so far as the editing process is

tion, and I believe that it has had a greater effect

So now, in an ever-wider range of technolo­

on production and post-production methods

gies, people are discovering that they are in­

even than the introduction of video. The im pli­

deed set on the same course as others in

cations of these changes have been more far-

previously unrelated areas. In many cases,

reaching than I suspect the designers of the

what is rem arkable is not so much the sim ilari­

equipm ent ever dreamed of, and I think that is

concerned, there have been some real teething problems, the greatest of these being the amount of memory that’s available, even for compressed images. But rem em ber a few years ago, there was a unit the size of a large suitcase, mounted

ties, but the differences that have evolved in the

into the racks at video houses and television

an im portant area to be discussed at a confer­

cultures of these parallel industries, which so

stations; and it was the fram estore - that is the

ence such as this one.

often interfere with any successful com m unica­

single fram estore. So current technology, sto r­

PARALLEL

t e c h n o l o g ie s

We have heard a lot of

talk recently about converging technologies; but what about p arallel technologies?

Parallel technologies are going in the same direction but they never meet or even approach

ing half an hour’s worth of image on one disk

tion between the universes.

drive the size of a paperback book, seems to

So much for parallel technologies. But we are hearing more about converging technologies.

have the problem well under control. Memory is

Simple geometry tells us that for parallel lines to

growing as fast as we can learn to count the bytes. A few years ago, talk of gigabytes was

converge, something must change direction.

just that - a bit of a giggle - now there is serious

each other, a bit like the parallel universes of C onvergence im plies

talk of terabytes - that is, a thousand gigabytes.

science fiction. Similar, but not identical, events

a c t io n a n d r e a c t io n

occur in sim ilar universes, but the inhabitants of

that - sooner or later - there has to be a

each universe exist in complete ignorance of

collision. It’s unlikely to be head-on, but there

the others. This has been the case for many

still has to be an impact. T hat’s where Sir Isaac

years as computers, cinema, television and

Newton comes in with his Third Law, and the

My paper was subtitled: “The close-up, the

phones have all developed, using (sometimes)

title of this paper. To every action there is an

cutaway, and the freeze-fram e” . So far, we

sim ilar technology in slightly different applica­

equal and opposite reaction.

have concentrated on a brief close-up view of

Watch out for horror bytes!

THE CLOSE-UP, THE CUTAWAY, AND THE FREEZE-FRAME

the main action: the new m ethods of editing.

tions. Each industry, each technology, uses

In fact, the principle is well illustrated by

different language to describe or define sim ilar

Newton’s cradle. There is a row of stainless

ideas: each has a different set of priorities, and,

steel balls hanging next to each other. The one

But whilst we are watching non-linear film

And we are seeing great things.

even where another industry has developed an

at the left is swung into the row, and, when it

editing, and noticing the smooth absorption of

application outside its normal area, or imported

collides with the others, it stops dead: the balls

energy and momentum, what else is happening?

a bit of equipm ent normally used in another

a p p e a rs to have

industry, there has been surprisingly little shar­

co m e

back

to ­

gether w ithout any

ing of ideas.

For example, film and video colour graders

lo n g -te rm

e ffe c t.

Where is the equal

T he

and opposite reac­ in d u s t r y

OF

h a s

KEEPING

THROWS

use sim ilar equipm ent to colour-correct images.

But way out at the

But they use different ways of controlling and

other end of the cra­

m easuring their corrections, and different terms

dle another ball goes flying out in reaction.

OUT

to

THE THE

find

BABY, BATH

w a y s

AS

IT

WATER.

tion actually taking p la c e ?

Som e­

where, N ew ton’s

cradle must have another ball flying away. And the laws of physics

(“gam ma” , for example, has a subtly different

This is how the collision between computer

are just as true here. There are deep and serious

meaning to different people). The operators

editing and film editing has happened. Linear

concerns about what is happening in production.

have different job titles and command substan­

systems of video editing never really compared

Let’s look at a few instances.

tially different salaries, and I’m not aware of

with film editing for convenience, quality or

anyone who has successfully switched from

accuracy. If nothing else had changed, it is

accountants have discovered that one of the

one system to the other. The professional stills

doubtful w hether the two ways of editing would

biggest technical costs in a production is the

business uses sim ilar equipm ent, but again

ever have come any closer to each other. But

cost of the work print. Now telecine houses,

there is little sharing of developed knowledge

with the evolution of digital imaging and large

editors and com puter software developers all

between the industries, and attempts to cross

capacity storage, com puter program m ers have

tell them that non-linear editing can proceed

the gulf between one and the other have gener­

altered the course of editing a little bit and come

w ithout a work print. The result has been dra­

ally been unsuccessful.

up with non-linear editing systems. W here video

matic: Atlab reports that the percentage of nega­

Again, dom estic television sets and com pu­

editing was merely a parallel technology, digital

tive it processes w ithout m aking a w ork print

ter m onitors are essentially the same bits of

editing has converged - and merged - with film

has risen to 80 or 90 percent for 16mm, and not

50 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

1 01

THE VANISHING WORK

p r in t

Producers and

T he

m e c h a n i s m

INHERITING

THE

of

p a s s in g

CULTURE,

,

of

IS C O M P R O M I S E D

BY

on

th e

THE

s k il l s

COMPUTER.

transfer” , and a graded transfer comes without

resolve difficulties in the camera departm ent.

situation, with a return to the business of video

the easily understood report of the printer lights

The industry has to find ways of keeping the

transfers, and its Digital C ourier system: and

that tells the cinem atographer how the exposure

baby, as it throws out the bath water. More

certainly if it is successful it will have plugged

was. Cinematographers are seriously concerned

enlightened telecine transfers, with reports on

one of the gaps left by the disappearing work

that they can’t see the quality of the work they

the grading corrections applied, in a language

print - so fa r as business fo r the lab is con­

are shooting. I haven’t met one who isn’t. Some

that makes sense to cinem atographers, would

cerned - and taken advantage of the digital

of the most experienced award-winning DOPs

be one step. I know this has been tackled, but

much less for 35mm. Atlab is adapting to this

are feeling the pinch, and, if they need the work

w ithout really satisfactory resolution yet. And

But away at the other end of New ton’s cra­

print, considerthe young, inexperienced camera

this doesn’t resolve the sharpness or resolution

dle, digital non-linear editing has produced a

person, struggling with a complex lighting prob­

problem. Overseas, the experience is different:

disastrous reaction fo r the cam era departm ent.

lem and new types of raw stock. How much more

I understand that m ost Hollywood productions

The film work print had a second important

do they need the feedback? I could name many

still use work prints in conjunction with non­

function: as a feedback and check for the cin­

productions that have discovered serious prob­

linear editing systems. The initial work print

em atographer. Is the image sharp? Is the light­

lems at answer-print stage because of the lack of

satisfies the “rushes” needs, and a quick first

ing contrast okay? How was the exposure, and

checking at work-print stage.

assem bly allows a substantially reduced fo ot­

revolution at the sam e tim e.

will the close-ups grade in with the wide shots

The director’s team and the cast are also

when the answ er print comes up? With the best

disadvantaged. The traditional rushes screen­

age to be digitized, saving on expensive memory and reducing non-linear editing time. It seems to be just in Australia that the new system s are

will in the world, a video or com puter image

ing in a theatre at the end of the next day’s shoot

simply can’t provide these answers. No televi­

sim ply doesn’t work on a video monitor, or even

sion system can really test the sharpness of a

a video projector. There are many reports of

t r a in in g

35mm image, and of course a compressed dig­

crews sim ply not bothering to attend rushes

other side effect has arisen. In non-linear edit­

ital image isn’t even a starter. Television and

screenings any more, with the resultant loss of

ing, as with most systems, the com puter does

com puter monitors don’t have the brightness

morale on the entire production.

all the house-keeping, leaving the editor free to

adopted prim arily as a m oney-saver.

ISSUES

Back in the editing room, an­

range to match a projected print, and can’t han­

Of course, non-linear editing is not to blame

concentrate on creative decisions. Fine. There’s

dle the image from a contrasty image without

for this. I’m not suggesting that we should forgo

work for an assistant editor at the start, logging

changing it. There’s no such thing as a “one light

the advantages gained in editing in order to

and digitizing the material into the system. Be-

cinesure

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CINEMA

PAPERS

1 0 1 • 51

cause non-linear editing systems are mounted

is measured fram e-

on a personal computer, there’s only room for

by-frame in key num-

one person at a time, so the assistant has to

bers, video is measured fram e-by-fram e

come in at night to do this. But after digitizing,

C u r i o u s l y , w a r p c o m i n g

a r e t h e

t h e t h e s o l e

ONES

CAUGHT

NEGATIVE

CUSTODIANS OF

IN T H E

MIDDLE

MATCHERS. OF THE

TRADITIONAL

THEY ARCANE

FILM

OF

THE

ARE

BE-

SKILLS

HANDLING.

there isn’t much for an assistant editorto do, and

in

so very often his or her employment comes to an

shouldn’t be any harder than converting feet to

th atthe e dito rd idn ’t mention: it’s easy to run the

end just as the edit is getting interesting. But this

metres, or grams to ounces. The trouble is a lot

same shot twice in video, but a little harder in film, where a dupe negative has to be made

tim e

code:

it

isn’t just the classic effect of computers replac­

of odd-ball techniques have evolved in video

ing people: there’s a twist that goes beyond the

editing and in film cutting that don’t really take

before either shot is cut in. And they’ve all

simple matter of employment or unemployment.

account of the other side; few film people really

suffered from the speed change, where the

One of the important functions of an assistant

understand the techniques of video and com ­

EDL turns out to show two seconds of film filling

is to learn the job. It’s not just a question of

puter editing, and even fewer video people are

four seconds of time. Somehow, it seems to

getting the editing skills: after all, the beauty of

aware of the tricks of the film business.

take the editors by surprise every time.

Following my theme, they’ve been parallel

Now, I’m not arguing against non-linear

without upsetting the original version. The as­

but separate technologies all along, and moving

editing for any of these reasons. I don’t w ant to

sistant could try a cut during a lunch break - if

from one to the other still involves travelling

be cast as a Luddite - th a t’s not the point I’m

there were an assistant - and if he/she had a

through some kind of a dimensional warp ortim e

making. I’m fully in favour of non-linear editing

lunch break! But the assistant is only there at

tunnel. Curiously, the ones caught in the middle

for the reasons I’ve already given. But, in

computer editing is that you can try a recut

night, and has finished atthe end of the shoot, so

of the warp are the negative matchers. They are

adopting the new methods, we have to take

there’s not much chance of that, and no oppor­

becoming the sole custodians of the arcane

care of the side effects. For exam ple, there are

tunity at all to learn the politics of the editing

skills of traditional film handling. Yet they find

obvious techniques that can guard against the

room: how to argue with the director, how to calm

themselves now in the role of the ferryman,

mis-cut. One involves m aking a work print - at

down the producer, how not to lose your job!

bridging the technologies, having to learn the

least of the selected takes, cam era-stop to

Let me make a comparison. Some years

mysteries of EDLs and computer systems, and

cam era-stop - and m atching that instead of

ago, colour-grading systems in laboratories were

to explain and account for the intricacies of film

the negative. That gives the director a chance

computerized. There is still a grader, making

editing and printing. Managed properly, the

to see the cut projected on a cinema screen, in

the creative colour judgem ents that no machine

matchback from EDL to film works well.

film quality and dim ensions, and the editor a

can do, but the grading assistant, who had the

chance to see that the cut is correct. Then,

humble job of writing down numbers, punching

Unfortunately, the consequences of confu­ sion are quite dramatic, and can lead to miscut

tapes, and rewinding negatives, no longer as­

negative, and the wrong pictures on the screen. It

matched to the print. The Hollywood system ,

sists. The machine does it all - far better and

has happened, on a number of productions, and

using the tried-and-tested rushes work print,

more reliably. So, there are no trainee graders.

of course negative can’t be “uncut”. There are

provides for that m ethod autom atically.

Back in those days, every grader had once

always other solutions, often involving editorial

been a grading assistant. It’s how they learned

compromises, and always costing a lot of money.

non-linear editing isn’t really about saving

after final adjustm ents, the negative can be

It’s true that work prints cost money. But

I’ll mention a few instances that I’ve come

money; it’s about improving the edit. And that’s

Today, there isn’t a single film grader that I

across recently. In one production, the director

wasted if the cut goes wrong. Ultimately, the

know of who hasn’t been a grader for at least

shifted from 25 to 24 frames per second during

labs may have to review their work print rates to

fifteen years. There are no newcomers; there

the shoot to solve a lighting problem: after all, it

make the point clearer. After all, labs also suffer

isn’t a training path; it’s a dead-end job and,

was for a television finish, so the telecine trans­

from a lack of work print: there’s less business,

before long, with no one to pass them on to, the

fer could go at 24 to get the speed back. No one

and they don’t have an immediate check on the

discussed the implications of the negative log­

quality of their processing. One possible conse­

So, when leading film editors complain about

ging - needed for selecting takes for a second,

quence of current trends may see the-iurther

the loss of assistants, there is good reason to

fully-graded transfer later on. Why should the

demise of film laboratories, replaced by a small

share theirconcern. The vision of a generation of

camera department need to worry about post­

chemical departm ent out at the back of a couple

the job, and how they got to be so good at it.

skills will be lost.

greying film editors with no up-and-coming re­

production methods? In fact, though, the 24-to-

of video houses. With the greatest respect to

placements is perhaps too fanciful - after all,

25 problem, where there are more frames of

the video engineers around town, I doubt if that

non-linear editing systems are very successful

video per second than there are of the original

scenario would be welcomed by anyone in the

at demystifying the editing process, and so peo­

negative, is one that continues to cause confu­

ple can learn; they can teach themselves how to

sion. There are perfectly accurate solutions,

film industry - and not many on the video side either.

edit. But the mechanism of passing on the skills,

but there is too much room for someone in the

of inheriting the culture, is compromised by the

long production chain to misunderstand.

These are some of the physical reactions to the impact of non-linear editing. Shakespeare’s

computer, and there is, I think, a genuine con­

In another case, short loads of raw stock

Ham let sums up the position well: “There are

cern that film editing may thus devolve to the

were wound off a full roll to fit a sm aller maga­

more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than

hands of the less skilled and less experienced

zine - a common practice. If it’s not done

are dream t of in your philosophy.” The film

(and so probably cheaper?) operators.

properly (by double-rewinding the stock), the

industry has evolved over the span of a com ­

And this is the point of my third edit: the

result is that the pre-exposed Keykode num­

plete century, and the many layers and dim en­

freeze frame. It provides wonderful detail of a

bers, because of rewinding the film, now run

sions of the technology are all inter-related.

single moment in time, but while we are study­

backwards, counting down towards the end of

Introducing a new technology to one area will

ing it, the world is moving on. There’s not much

the roll. T hat’s not a problem so long as all the

have noticeable consequences in many oth­

of a story if we don’t consider what is going to

computer software that’s used to track edge

ers. C onsider all the im plications before you

happen in the next few frames.

numbers understands that edge numbers can

decide on a production plan. There are more

run backwards. Some systems do, but sadly

alternatives now than ever before, and, the

Of course, non-linear editing

some don’t. So there’s a roll of film that can’t be

more alternatives, the harder the choice. But

wasn’t adopted in film production in isolation of

managed by the system. Believe me, it’s hard

consider all the uses of a w ork print before you

o th e r d e ve lo p m e n ts. The in tro d u c tio n of

enough to go through all the intricacies of edit­

cross them off the budget; consider all the

Keykode, and of computer software to correlate

ing and negative cutting with software writers

values of training before you sack the a ssist­

film edge numbers with video time code, made

without discussing camera magazines as well.

ant; consider all the consequences of error

the actual m atch-back possible. But in actual

Negative cutters all'know about the dissolves

before you com m it to new techniques; and

practice, negative matching to video orcom pu-

that can’t be done because the shot doesn’t last

consider the potential expenses before you

te re dits is a headache. In theory it’s simple: film

long enough. They know about the cut-back shot

com m it to the false econom y.

G E TTIN G IT R IG H T

52 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

101

v£T'

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T echni cal i t i es

AAV turns 20

AAV Video Services which, to ­ g ether w ith the rece ntly-acq uired Apocalypse and lloura, provides Aus­

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It seems several Melbourne institutions are celebrating their 20th birthdays this year: now there is AAV Australia Pty Ltd. Ted Gregory, Chief Executive of AAV, says: When AAV was established in 1974, the

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€ H RI S

LO N G

Australia’s First Films: P a r t T e n : F e d e ra tio n

he first Australian film exceeding the Lumière camera’s 90second reel limitation was of the worthiest possible subject: the official record of the birth of our nation.

Commissioned by the New South Wales Government, the Salvation Army’s January 1901 coverage of Sydney’s federation celebrations ran for more than 30 minutes, five times the length of any earlier local film.1It demanded an unprecedented financial commitment and intensive advanced planning including the construction of special camera platforms. Nearly all of the movie cameras in Sydney and several brought up from Melbourne were requisitioned for it, the first Australian film featuring simultane­ ous multiple-camera coverage.

Before F. C. Ottman’s 1928 Herbert Booth biography2 gave birth to the myth of “Soldiers of the Cross”, old Salvation Army cameramen recalled the federation coverage as the Limelight Department’s crowning achievement.3Now known as T h e Inau­ guration o f the A ustralian C om m on w ealth , it was the most widely distributed Australian film of its time. It compelled the Salvation Army to register the nation’s first production company on 30 January 1901, The Australian Kinematographic Com­ pany.4 For the first time, Australian film production reaped significant monetary profit. A series of remunerative production commissions followed.

T

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FACTS AND FABLES VOTE

FOR

FEDERATION ON

FRIDHY, 3rd JUNE.

R E M E M B E R ! The Enabling Act demands that

50.000 Votes must be Polled in Favor to carry the Bill.

Birth of Our Nation: Centennial Park, Sydney, 1 January 1901. More than 100,000 people attended the official Federation ceremony, at which Australia’s first film approaching feature length was shot.

Furthermore, owing to the numerous prints sold, most of the federation coverage survives, released on the NFSA videocassette Federation Films as recently as 1991. By comparison, the illustrated lecture “Soldiers of the Cross” (1900) initially had only 15 uncon­ nected one-minute films scattered through a 140-minute slide show5, and some of the films were French imports.6 T he Inaugura­ tion o f the Australian C om m onw ealth was a continuous film presentation — longer, more important in content, more widely shown, and more lasting in its effect on our production industry.

IlflE P a t h

to

F e d e r a tio n

During the 19th Century, the Australian continent included six independent British colonies with no federal capital, no collective defence force and no uniform legislation. As improved transport and communications brought these colonies into closer contact, customs barriers between them became increasingly irritating.

The new nationalist fervour of the 1890s saw a series of Federal Conventions and Conferences paving the way for union, inspired

by Sir Henry Parkes (1815 -1 8 9 6 ) and later influenced by Sir Edmund Barton (1849 —1920). Between 1898 and 1900, the various colonies held referenda to approve a Federal Constitutioh, Western Australia being the last to give its approval on 31 July 1 9 0 0 .7

Queen Victoria gave her assent to Australian Federation on 9 July 1 9 0 0 8, and nine days later it was announced that Australia’s first Governor-General would be the Queen’s Lord Chamberlain, a former Governor of the Colony of Victoria, the elegant but rather sickly Earl of Hopetoun (1 8 6 0 -1 9 0 8 ).

The first day of the 20th Century, 1 January 1901, was selected as the official inaugural day of the Federated Australian Common­ wealth, when our six British colonies would be joined during an unprecedented day’s celebration in Sydney. A triumphal military and civic procession through Sydney’s streets was planned to culminate at Centennial Park. There, set in a natural amphitheatre with room for multitudes of onlookers, an ornate wood-and-plaster pavilion would be the stage for the final act of Federation, the swearing-in of Australia’s first Governor-General and Federal Cabinet.

Commonwealth Celebration Day’s preparations were expen­ sive and intricate. Triumphal arches resplendent with symbolic and heraldic decoration were erected along the route of the Sydney procession. Some were official arches erected by the citizens of various cities or nations, others commemorated im­ portant natural resources such as coal, wheat and wool. Largest of all was the “Citizens’ Arch” across Park Street at its intersec­ tion with Elizabeth Street, built by the Citizens’ Organising Committee to a design by Varney Parkes in a special plaster and sugar cane fibre composition. All along the route of the proces­ sion were ornamentation, colonnades, bunting, decorative col­ umns, emblems, slogans and flags with the Union Ja ck predominating over all.

10,000 local and imported Empire defence forces joined in the procession - no mean logistical feat while the Boer W ar and Boxer Rebellion were still in progress. 2 ,0 0 0 British troops from such élite regiments as the Life Guards, Dragoons, Horse Guards, Coldstreams, Grenadiers, Scots, Hussars and Fusiliers mostly came out on the s.s. B ritannic, their first visit since the with­ drawal of British forces from these colonies in 1 8 7 0 .9 A further 100 members of the Indian Native military were dispatched per s.s D alhou sie on their first official visit to our shores.10 All were temporarily accommodated at a huge Military Encampment at M oore Park and the Agricultural Showgrounds. 959 policemen were to guard the five miles of the processional route, with timber grandstands built temporarily at every possible coign of vantage, some seating 10,000 spectators.

The week of festivities commencing with Commonwealth Celebration Day was organized by a co-ordinated network of committees11: the Reception and Entertainment Committee; Citizens’ Committee; Decoration and Illuminations Committee; Processions and Demonstrations Committee; the Poor Commit­ tee; and even an Aquatic Committee for marine displays. All of the sectional committees were co-ordinated by an overall Organ­ ising Committee headed by the Chief Clerk of the New South Wales Public W orks Department, John Portus.12 Although Sir William Lyne’s New South Wales Government was prominent in the staffing and financing of these committees, they appear to have been quasi-autonomous and partly self-financing. None of their records seem to survive in the archives of New South Wales or the Australian Commonwealth.13 This article is based on surviving details in press reports and on J. J. Keenan’s official book on the Inaugural Celebration14 published in 1904 by the New South Wales Government Printer.

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Left: Earl of Hopetoun (1860-1908), who was sworn in as Australia’s first GovernorGeneral on 1 January 1901, and as Queen Victoria’s representative was the political focus of the day’s celebrations - and of the film coverage.

Right: Sir William Lyne, New South Wales’ Premier 1899-1901, enthusiastically supported the filming of the Commonwealth Federation ceremonies in Sydney on 1 January 1901, and appeared prominently in the coverage.

C o m m is s io n in g

th e

F e d e r a tio n F ilm

Late in October 1900, the theatre manager J. C. Williamson was invited to form a “Musical and Theatrical” sectional commit­ tee15, and to serve on the central Organising Committee of the Commonwealth Inauguration.16 It is significant that the Federa­ tion Film later premiered during the run of his pantomime, Australis, o r T he City o f Z e r o x7, at Her M ajesty’s Theatre in Sydney.

On 12 November 1900, The Sydney M orning H erald reported:

CINEMATOGRAPH PICTURES: On more than one occasion the Premier [Lyne] has been asked if the Government would take steps to secure an imperishable record of such an important event as the inauguration of the Commonwealth of Australia by having a series of cinematograph pictures taken of the procession as it passed certain commanding points in the city, as well as views of the manoeuvres of the Imperial guard of honour and other visiting troops. Sir William Lyne has indicated the willingness of the Government to give every assistance in procuring such pictures. He is prepared to have plat­ forms erected in suitable positions along the route of the procession, so as to permit of cinematograph pictures being taken under the most satisfactory conditions. Equal facilities will be given to record the brilliant military pageant in the Centennial Park [on 3 January 1901].

Although no official communication has been received on the subject, it is understood that prominent cinematographists from London intend coming to the colony, whilst several local artists have inti­ mated their intention to take a number of pictures. The Premier is of the opinion that the occasion will lend itself to the production of a number of splendid views, and is hopeful that full advantage will be taken of it to secure films that will be viewed with considerable interest by people throughout the British Empire.18 Copious offers of co-operation from filmmakers followed this announcement, and a week later “it was decided to recommend to the Government that cinematograph reproductions of, at least, the leading features in the procession be obtained”19.

The tender to shoot the film was administered by the depart­ ment usually charged with photographic responsibilities, the New South Wales Government Printer.20 Details of the accepted tender are obscure, but it went to the photographic dealer Baker & Rouse, acting as commercial agents for Australia’s only corporate film producer of the time, the Salvation Army Lime­ 58 . C I N E M A

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light D epartm ent.21 “Soldiers of the Cross” had just been completèd and a hiatus in its exhibition caused by Herbert Booth falling ill meant the Department was available to try something more am­ bitious.22 Baker &c Rouse had a close relationship with the Limelight Depart­ ment dating back to the start of 1898, when it imported the Salvation Army’s first Lumière movie camera23 and subse­ quently supplied the Department with raw film stock. In return, the Limelight Department used Baker & Rouse as the retail outlet for its films and other filmrelated manufactures. For example, from July 1900 Baker & Rouse sold the “T ri­ umph” gas-producing limelight retorts24 made under the patents of Joseph Perry25, the Limelight Department’s chief.

The relationship between these two organizations on the making of the Federation film was clarified by the former Baker & Rouse sales manager A. J. Perier, when he stated that:

Overall charge of the ‘newsreel’ coverage was in the competent hands of Major Perry, of the Salvation Army, this officer having long been a pioneer in the field of motion pictures for record and propaganda purposes [...]26 A further report on the filming by the Sydney M ail of 26 January 1901 states that the “kinematograph films [were] taken by two officers [sic] of the Salvation Army on Commonwealth D ay”27. Clearly, although Baker & Rouse may have managed the exercise and provided raw film, the Salvation Army directed and shot the film using its own cameras from Melbourne. Its Lime­ light Department also processed and printed the film afterwards, in Melbourne.28 By 22 December 1900, Baker & Rouse was able to announce that “very suitable positions have been selected for the working of the cinematograph cameras, which will run from 50 to 1500 feet [of] films”29. Well-constructed timber platforms were erected specifically to facilitate filming. Their positions were listed in a 24 December 1900 letter from the Government Printer30 request­ ing police protection for the cameramen: (1) At Bridge Street, near M ort’s Statue.

(2) At M artin Place, opposite the Stamp Branch Entrance on the front of the General Post Office.

(3) At Park Street, about 20 yards East of the Commonwealth Arch on the North side of the street.

(4) At the corner of Bridge and Macquarie Streets, above the Eastern entrance to the Mint.

(5) Near the steps to the Swearing-in Pavilion at Centennial Park.

The expense lavished on these high platforms to guarantee an unobstructed view for the cameras emphasizes the importance placed on the film. Only the last three vantage points are indicated in the final list of film components offered for sale.31 Any footage taken from the first two positions must have been unsuccessful, as it was not subsequently advertised or mentioned in reviews.

Lumière Cinématographe cameras were still exclusively used by the Limelight Department at this stage.32 The longest reel ran only 104 feet (1 minute 44 seconds), so that about 30 reels were exposed for the coverage. The cameras had no pan or tilt facility, and only a single lens of normal focal length, providing an unchanging “wide shot” of the parade. These would have been the same machines used three months earlier to shoot film illustrations for “Soldiers of the Cross”, possibly augmented by

equipment on loan from the stock of Baker & Rouse.

The cameramen, all from the M elbourne Headquarters of the Salvation Army Limelight Department, had conveniently been in Sydney for the week prior to Commonwealth Day at a big Salvation Army Christmas Encampment at Manly Beach.33 The camera at Centennial Park was operated by Staff-Captain Robert Sandall34, later the author of several volumes of the Salvation Army’s official history. The city camera positions at the Treasury and in Park Street by the Citizens’ Arch were probably manned

by Sidney Cook and John Brodie.35 M ajor Joseph Perry directed the proceedings, and according to A. J. Perier he moved between the camera stations by unconventional means: In order to ensure the M ajo r’s swift passage from point to point through the crowded streets, he had been supplied with a novel means of transport - a fire engine drawn by five horses!36 By shooting the parade from the city positions, interesting contingents missed during the frequent pauses to re-load the camera at the Treasury could be later shot as the Parade passed the Park Street camera, with careful co-ordination from director Perry. The surviving film of the parade is necessarily fragmentary owing to the limitations of the cameras, but the collective view given by the coverage as a whole is surprisingly comprehensive.

The following shot list, published by Baker & Rouse to permit showmen to select sections of coverage according to their means and requirements, appeared in T he Australasian P hotographic R eview on 23 January 1901 (p. 25). Additional details have been noted from the films themselves. The author re-assembled these from four different sets of prints for the NFSA video Federation Films (1991).

I n a u g u r a t io n o f t h e A u s t r a l ia n C o m m o n w e a l t h S h o t L is t - 1 J a n u a r y 1901 “A ” SERIES: Taken at the corner of Bridge and Macquarie Streets, from the top of the Treasury’s eastern entrance.

Around 9 a.m. on 1 January 1901, the 15,000-strong proces­ sion marshalled in the Domain in reverse order of precedence. It travelled north up the wood-blocked M acquarie Street, turning west into Bridge Street. The movie camera high up on the Treasury at this corner recorded its passage.

Opposite the end of Bridge Street, where the Cahill Express­ way now begins, were the decorated gates of Government House, where Governor-General Hopetoun came out to join the parade at 10:30 a.m. All of the reels look south down M acquarie Street, except “A ” reel 5:

“A” REEL 1: 200 mounted policemen in full dress uniform lead the head of the procession (cut). Eight Hours Day Banner leads the Trade Union Procession. An Allegorical Car (float) with a workers’ tableau of a miner, shearer and seaman guarding a statue representing the spirit of Australia; 30 mounted stockmen and shearers from the Australian Workers’ Union (cut - large section of civil parade bypassed). The Sydney Fire Brigade’s horse-drawn steam pump fire engines, hose carriage, ladder vehicles (cut - religious leaders by­ passed and Canadian float footage missing). Italian State Car (float) with an Italian group surrounding a bust of Sir Henry Parkes. 92 feet (1 minute 32 seconds) of the original 104 feet survives.

“A” REEL 2: Mounted New South Wales Lancers with emu plumes in their slouch hats; New South Wales Infantrymen recently returned from the Boer War in varied uniform. Some members of the Sudan Contingent of 1885 are seen “in mufti” towards the end. Meanwhile, Hopetoun’s open carriage and Lancer escort move away from the camera to join the rear of the procession. 63 feet (1 minute 3 seconds).

“A” REEL 3: Victoria’s Brass Military Band of 56 members. Victoria’s

Above left: Hopetoun’s carriage on its way to Centennial Park on 1 January 1901 in Park Street, having just passed under the Citizens’ Commemora­ tive Arch. The second movie camera position was in the distance on the right, with the camera trained on the passageway in the Arch.

Above: Looking north up Macquarie Street from Parliament House, Sydney, on Commonwealth Celebration Day. The procession of 10,000 defence forces moves from the Domain towards the first movie camera position at the distant comer of Bridge Street, where the parade turned west. Spectators occupied every available vantage point, including the vast temporary grandstand on the right.

Far left: The route of the procession on Federation Day. Left: The gates of Government House opposite the end of Bridge Street, decorated for Commonwealth Celebration Day. The first movie camera position was high up on the Treasury, at extreme left. Hopetoun came out to join the parade here (see film “A” Reel 5).

This intersection of Bridge and Macquarie Streets now marks the start of the Cahill Expressway.

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Above left: The special movie camera platform built to record the ceremony in the Swearing-in Pavilion can be clearly seen on the lower right of this photograph. The cameraman appears to bending over, replacing a film magazine on the camera.

Taken at Centennial Park, 1 January 1901.

Above right: Frames from the Federation coverage showing Hopetoim leading the Vice-Regal suite into the Swearing-in Pavilion at Centennial Park (see filmogra­ phy reference “C ” Reel 2). Originally published in Australasian Photographic Review, January 1951, p. 12.

Left: Staff Captain Robert Sandall of the Salvation Army Limelight Department, the cinematographer who shot the actual moment of Federation at the Swearing-in Pavilion, Centennial Park, 1 January 1901. 40

40 bluejackets of their Naval Contingent (many were absent at the Boxer Rebellion in China). 196 Artillerymen and Rangers of Victo­ ria’s recently-returned First Boer War Contingent in parade kit.

Smaller ambulance and service corps (cut). 20 khaki-clad infantry­ men, 30 Artillerymen, Victorian Scottish Regiment in kilts, Engineers (cuts). Mounted colonial Lancers lead the kilted New Zealand Southland Pipers, First New Zealand Boer War Contingent on their way home glimpsed distantly (cuts). 52 Indian Native Cavalry in turbans. 54 feet (54 seconds).

“A” REEL 4: Rear of parade - VIP carriages. Carriage of Naval Commander Admiral Pearson; corps of New South Wales Lancers escorting; carriage containing Suite of New South Wales GovernorMajor Willoughby (Military Secretary), Captain Corbet (ADC), Mrs Corbet, Captain Duff (extra ADC), Saville Gore (Asst. Private Secre­ tary). Governor-General’s Advance Escort of New South Wales Lancers, Mounted Infantry and Mounted Police (cuts). GovernorGeneral Flopetoun’s open carriage, which also contains Captain Wallington (his Private Secretary) and Major Philson (his doctor).

Rear guard of New South Wales Lancers concludes the parade. 74 feet (1 minute 14 seconds).

“A” REEL 5: Camera looks eastwards to the gates of Government House with crowd in foreground greeting Hopetoun’s first appearance before joining the parade in his open carriage with a NSW Lancer Escort of men from the “Aldershot Contingent”, who were the first Australians to see action in the Boer War (cuts). Cavalry officer in Life Guards uniform follows, possibly Colonel W. G. Crole-Wyndham, commanding the visiting Imperial Contingent. 42 feet (42 seconds).

“B” SERIES: Taken from the north side of Park Street in Hyde Park, some 20 metres east of the intersection with Elizabeth Street. Camera gives a fixed view of the passageway in the Citizens’ Arch.

After passing west along Bridge Street, the parade did a circuit of the city. It turned south at Pitt Street, west down Martin Place, south along George Street, and east at Park Street, passing this second camera position en route to Oxford Street and Centennial Park.

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B” REEL 1: Press wagon; Italian float designed by artist D’Attilo Rubbo; Canadian float designed by Julian Ashton. Church leaders: Salvation Army carriage with officers Gilmour, Saunders and Peart supporting Commandant Herbert Booth, seen three months after the premiere of “Soldiers of the Cross”. University of Sydney’s carriage: Chancel­ lor McLaurin and Sir Arthur Renwick MLC. Prob­ ably carriage containing Rabbis Davis, Landau and Wolinski. Probably Congregational Church leaders Reverends Fordyce, Griffiths, Cocks and Campbell (cuts). 51 feet (51 seconds).

B” REEL 2: State carriages with VIPs passing too far away for identification. Aldermen, parliamentar­ ians, Government ministers and judges. Carriage with four men in powdered wigs probably has Justices Owen, Simpson, Cohen and Walker.

Mayoral carriage discernible from garb of occu­ pants. 75 feet (1 minute 15 seconds).

B” REEL 3: Royal Engineers in wagon-borne pon­ toon back from South Africa; second pontoon and wagon following have members of Observation Balloon Corps of Royal Engineers, a distant Air Force precursor (film cuts here to an ea rlier part of the parade). Royal Horse Artillery, V Battery with two guns and a wagon. Queen Victoria’s Household Cavalry contingent: either Colonel Crole-Wyndham or Captain G. C. Wilson leads 1st and 2nd Life Guards and Horse Guards wearing steel cuirasses and plumed helmets. 70 feet (1 minute 10 seconds).

‘B” REEL 4: (Large portion of parade skipped.) Four pipers lead 24 Royal Highlanders (the “Black Watch”); 24 Seaforth Highlanders (Rothshire Buffs); 24 Cameron Highlanders (Queen’s Own); 24 Highland Light Infantry. Shot list and narration now identify “Dub­ lin Fusileers”, but Keenan’s 1904 book indicates: 11 Army Service Corps, 10 Royal Army Medical Corps, 4 Army Chaplains in dog collars, 6 men of Army Ordnance and Pay Department. 4th Norfolk Battalion of Militia just into view as film cuts out. 50 feet (50 secs).

B” REEL 5: Leaps back prior to start of Imperial Contingent. 52Jndian Native Cavalry in turbans, including Bengal and Bombay Lancers. 48 Indian Native Infantry including Viceroy’s Bodyguard and Ghoorkas.

Band of NSW Lancers just comes into view heading the Imperial Contingent to follow as film cuts out. 50 feet (50 seconds).

B” REEL 6: Governor-General’s Suite (footage lost) and Colonial Troops. Remaining section is either Victorian Mounted Rifles and Victorian Permanent Artillery, or possibly the end of the Tasmanian Infantry (in khaki); Western Australian Mounted Rifles, senior Artilleryman leading Colonial Mounted Riflemen and a corps of Artillerymen. 39 feet of original 84 feet (1 minute 24 seconds) survives.

C” SERIES: Near the Swearing-in Pavilion at Centennial Park. Swear­ ing-in of First Governor-General and First Federal Cabinet recorded in considerable detail, from a variety of vantage points —the actual moments of Federation and the most interesting section of film.

Curiously, more footage survives than was originally advertised.

C” REEL 1: John Portus (Celebration Organizing Committee Secre­ tary) with Hopetoun leading Vice-Regal party towards the Swearingin Pavilion down the red carpet flanked by sailors from H M S R oyal A rth u r and Colonial soldiers. Admiral Pearson follows up in the rear as the band plays the National Anthem and onlookers wave their hats, Taken from elevated camera platform south-west of Pavilion. 52 feet (52 seconds).

C” REEL 2: Same vantage point, but with camera trained on the Pavilion steps. Sydney’s Anglican Archbishop William Saumarez Smith waits in Pavilion. Hopetoun shakes hands with a Premier’s wife, halting Sir William Lyne and NSW Governor Darley who observe rules of precedence. Hopetoun ascends steps, shaking hands with Prime Minister-Elect Edmund Barton. Vice-Regal Party follows Hopetoun into Pavilion. 47 of the original 51 feet (51 seconds) survive.

C” REEL 3: Pavilion interior, from foot of entry steps on west side. Shot 1: dignitaries move into position for the ceremony. Shot 2: New South Wales Governor Darley administers the Oath to Governor-General Hopetoun, who kisses Bible and signs documents —actual moment of Australian Federation (shot by Robert Sandall). Shot 3: Clerk of South Australian Parliament, E. G. Blackmore, reads the GovernorGeneral’s proclamation of the Federated Commonwealth. Barton and Deakin look on. Shot 4: NSW Premier Lyne sworn in to Federal

Cabinet. 50 feet was originally advertised, but 110 feet survives (1 minute 50 seconds).

“C” REEL 4: Pavilion entry steps from elevated platform on south-west side. 2:30 p.m.: the end of the ceremony. Naval and Military leaders form a guard of honour flanking exit steps. Hopetoun congratulates staff with Darley waiting beside him. They exit, followed by the First Federal Cabinet with Barton and Deakin prominent. Admiral Pearson appears as film cuts out. 39 feet (39 seconds).

“D” SERIES: Review of 10,000 Empire Troops at Centennial Park on 3 January 1901, a gesture of gratitude to Boer War servicemen from the new nation. The camera platform used near the Pavilion was moved across Grand Drive to the central flat ground of Centennial Park to facilitate this coverage. Most of this was taken from it, looking east and south.

No detailed shot list was advertised for this coverage. Eight sections of the original 530 feet (approx.) taken survive. They were assembled oft F ed era tio n Film s with the assistance of military experts having a knowledge of the rules of military precedence: “D ” REEL 1: British Imperial Lancers and Royal Horse Artillery lead the review towards the camera. Hopetoun, Major-General French (com­ manding NSW forces) and an ADC, all on horseback, break ranks to go to the Saluting Base, off the left of frame. Life Guards approach as the reel ends. 69 feet (1 minute 9 seconds): “D” REEL 2: Hopetoun, French and ADC at Saluting Base, NSW Lancers file past in review, wide shot from elevated camera platform.

36 feet (36 seconds).

“D” REEL 3: Closer view of French and Hopetoun at Saluting Base, VIPs seated in temporary grandstand built on south side of Grand Drive in the background. Camera has been taken down from camera platform to shoot this. An ADC rides forward to answer a question from French, who gestures at the parade with his sabre. 21 feet (21 seconds).

“D” REEL 4: Colonial Infantry in khaki South African field kit, taken from elevated camera platform looking south-east. 10,000 troops can be seen on the distant slopes, mustering in squares. The Permanent Artillery of the Australian States approach with sunlight glinting on their bayonets as the reel closes. 40 feet (40 seconds).

“D” REEL 5 : British Highlander Infantry Contingents - pipes and drums leading the Black Watch, Seaforths and Camerons including veterans of the Boer War Battle of Magersfontein (1899). 49 feet (49 seconds).

“D” REEL 6: Fragment only of close view of Saluting Base, Hopetoun prominent in the uniform of the Commander-In-Chief of Australia’s forces on Queen Victoria’s behalf. 2 feet (2 seconds).

“D” REEL 7: Guns of the Royal Australian Artillery, drawn by horse teams. 24 feet (24 seconds).

“D” REEL 8: Indian Native Cavalry riding at a gallop with pennants aloft. Large corps of troops muster in the distance. 25 feet (25 seconds).

E x h ib it in g

th e

F e d e r a t io n F ilm

The exposed films were immediately railed to the Salvation Army Limelight Departm ent’s M elbourne base for processing and printing.37 The first print was rushed back to Sydney for its premiere at Her M ajesty’s Theatre on 19 January 1901, in conjunction with J . C. W illiam son’s patriotic pantomime, A u stralis. 38Set in the year 200 1 during whimsical Sydney federal centenary celebrations, it predicted the Harbour Bridge and foresaw that N orth Sydney’s heights would be “crowned with marble palaces and cloud-capped tow ers”39. Australis ran for almost a month before the Federation films augmented its attractions.

T h e Sydney M orn ing H era ld emphasized the film’s extraordi­ nary length on the day of its premiere: “M ore than 1,000 feet of film are involved, so that the largest ‘spool’ ever employed had to be made for the occasion.”40 A. J. Perier of Baker 8c Rouse recalled that the projection of these lengths of film presented special difficulties:

The print was in the possession of the Government Printer and was allowed to be shown at the end of the pantomime [...] I know all about this as I was responsible for the actual screening. A wonderful feat as the projector used was [an] actual camera that had been used to take the film. The said camera, used as a projector, a ‘Lumière’, was only

“B anjo” Paterson (1864-1941) bought the rights to show the Federation coverage in Queensland, touring and lecturing with them for several months, but the lonely life of a travelling picture showman was not to his tastes.

built to take rolls of 50 feet. It took four men to do the screening - one to turn the handle, one to [manually] feed film into the projector, one to take up the film from the projector and one to look after the arc lamp. All this outfit was placed at the back of the stalls draped round with curtains, the ‘juice’ [electric supply] being merely tapped from one of the wires used for ordinary lighting. Probably the happiest one of the bunch of operators was little me. I had to stand astride, open the lamp house and slowly watch the operator and feed him [with film] carefully whilst about 200 to 300 feet of film were put through [at a time]. The set up was as follows: A. J. Perier - feed.

J. Moodie - turn the handle.

G. Mitchell - attend to the arc light J. Cummings - look after the take up.41 As Lumière projectors had no feed sprocket, the inertia of rolls longer than 100 feet would place excessive back-tension on the intermittent advancing claw, ripping the film. The special pre­ caution of feeding the film into the projector manually would form a loose loop above the intermittent and avoid trouble, but it took inordinate effort to do so. M ore advanced projectors coming into general usage by 1901, like the Edison and the W arwick, had a film feed sprocket between the reel and the intermittent to form this strain-relieving loop autom atically.42 Some nitrates of the Federation film have been found with “Edison” 35 mm perforations of the modern type to fit these CONTINUES

ON

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78

CINEMA

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101

.61

F I L M

R E V I E W S

The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert; Bad Boy Bubby; Country Life; Frauds; Hammers Over the Anvil; The Roly Poly Man; and Traps

THE ADVENTURES OF PRISCILLA, QUEEN OF THE DESERT DAVID VALLENCE A N D M O N IC A ZETLIN

ith The Adventures o f Priscilla, Queen o f

W

the Desert, director Stephan Elliott has

found a form for his over-exuberant style that works to generate the narrative, not swamp it, as was the case of Frauds. The film ’s healthy energy and assured aesthetic sense manages to avoid most of the confusion and narrative inertia of its predecessor. With its well-chosen gay anthems and glamorous set-pieces, and its sharp writing and direction, the film is a visual and aural stunner. Already a cause célèbre for some, and a bitter bone of contention for others, Priscilla is bound to generate some healthy debates about Australian cinema and about issues of a gay-them ed genre in particular.

One genre that this film clearly nods its head at is that of the road movie, especially in its

Bill Hunter provides the “rom antic” interest

buddy-pic guise. No amount of sequins and

as a gentleman ocker, who develops an affec­

DESERT.

falsies can disguise the fact that the film harks

tion (“love’ or “passion’ would be overplaying it)

Aborigines. The idea of their being outsiders

back to the good ol’ boy tradition of loading up

for Bernadette. Needless to say, their conflict­

and aliens in a strange land is both reinforced

the car with booze and heading down the

ing personalities invest the film with much of its

and upset in this scene, as in theirow n way they

STEPHAN ELLIOTTS THE ADVENTURES OF PRISCILLA. QUEEN OF THE

blacktop with your mates, destination hazy but

humour as they negotiate life in cramped quar­

‘conquer’ what they survey. The idea of placing

adventure (and perhaps a small amount of soul-

ters on the bus “ Priscilla” , and amid the hostile

three people totally out of context with their

searching) assured. In this aspect, Priscilla is

environm ent of the outback.

surrounds, and playing off the landscape and

true to its intentions: it captures nicely the

Their decision to become queens of the road

freedom and the tension that life on the road

places them in direct conflict with this land, and

can bring, especially when characters with dif­

it is this contrast of city queens and alien ockers

Often, the stereotypes the three queens

ferent attitudes and conflicting ideas are brought

that fuels the narrative. Instead of exploring

subm it to, and the fact that the routines they

together.

these situations with any real insight or cultural

perform are really uninspired (no self-respect­

engagement, however, the film easily relies on

ing drag act would be seen shuffling as these

so for slim reasons - ostensibly to play a caba­

stereotype and caricature that doesn’t treat ei­

three do), leads one to conclude that these

ret show at Alice Springs for money, but with

ther ‘camp’ with much respect or understanding.

boys are dressing up purely for the straight

their own personal agendas to attend to also.

It is when they come in conflict with the

audience. Queer aesthetics and politics, with

Hugo W eaving plays Tick, or Mitzi in his ‘fe ­

inhabitants of this land that Priscilla becomes

the associated gender-fucking, is leaps and

m ale’ rôle, to whom the trip represents more

an interesting com m entary on character, par­

bounds beyond the concept of drag espoused

than just a chance to get away, as it does for the

ticularly when the main characters associate

in Priscilla. It is a shame that the whats and

othertw o. Ittranspires Mitzi has a wife and child

with women. Drag and women have always had

whys of camp and drag are never questioned in

in Alice, a situation which brings its own amount

a com plicated relationship, but, watching this

of tension aboard. Questioned for his loyalty to

film, it would be easy to assume that women are

this film, and left at the level of outrageous costumery.

his own kind, Mitzi admits that his sexuality is in

(ironically) the absolute a ntithesis of drag

Elliott has insisted that this film should be

doubt - indeed, is alm ost non-existent. W hat

queens. Priscilla enforces the notion that we

viewed as a musical, and that reading it as

The three drag queens taking to the road do

isn’t in doubt, however, is his love of drag.

the culture, is perhaps where Priscilla is both its most successful and its most weak.

are all in drag, all our lives, yet the film also

anything other than such would be to over­

Terence Stamp invests a strangely affecting

suggests that men in female drag are superior

indulge in analyzing it (see interview in this

m elancholia to his rôle as Bernadette. The only

to women in female drag (and even in male

issue of Cinema Papers.) However, when a

post-op transgender out of the three travellers,

drag). One butch and unattractive woman in a

man is dressed in fake breasts, pancake m ake­

she is facing life as a lonely widow, far from her

country pub is belittled and out-done by the

up, a frock and high heels, and perform s to

glam orous early life as a member of the famous

queens due to lack of either fem ininity or m as­

Gloria G aynor’s “ I Will Survive” , then this be­

“Les G irls” .

culinity (Bernadette easily out-drinks her), and,

comes more than just a m usical. Drag is histori­

The overwhelmingly muscle-bound and buffed

in another outstandingly m isogynist scene, an

cally intrinsic to the identity of much of what

Guy Pearce plays Adam, or Felicia, the stere­

Asian woman becomes the object of ridicule

constitutes the gay comm unity, and as such

otypical bitchy queen. Felicia is almost maniacally

and disgust due to the things she can do with

plays a com plex and often ambiguous role in its

malicious, simpering and catty, and Pearce’s

her vagina.

politics. Elliott has stated that the gay com m u­

macho posturing creates a disturbing tension between playing the rôle and sending it up.

62 • C I N E M A

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Perhaps the most complex scene is the one

nity will cham pion Priscilla, but perhaps he has

where the three queens m eet up with a group of

assum ed too much in overlooking the fact that

the community is not a homogenous group, and that perhaps if he had moved beyond his dislike for politics, and engaged more thoughtfully with certain elements in the film, the end product would have had more texture and less gloss.

Further reading: See interviews with Stephan Elliott and Terence Stamp in this issue. Also, see Jan Epstein’s review of the film in “47e Festival Interna­ tional du Film, Cannes” , Cinema Papers, No. 100, August 1994, pp. 10-5.

THE ADVENTURES OF PRISCILLA, QUEEN OF THE DESERT Directed by Stephan Elliott. Producers: Al Clark, Michael Hamlyn. Executive producer: Rebel PenfoldRussell. Scriptw riter: Stephan Elliott. Director of pho­ tography: Brian J. Breheny. Production designer: Owen Patterson. Costume designers: Lizzy Gardiner, Tim Chappel. Sound recordist: G unter Sics. Editor: Sue Blainey. Composer: Guy Gross. Cast: Terence Stamp (Bernadette), Hugo Weaving (Tick/M itzi), Guy Pearce (Adam /Felicia), Bill Hunter (Bob), Sarah Chadwick (Marion), Mark Holmes (Benji), Julia Cortez (Cynthia), Alan Dargin (Aboriginal Man), June Marie Bennett (Shirley), Rebel Russell (Logowom an). Polygram Filmed Entertainm ent presentation, in association with the Australian Film Finance Corporation of a Latent Im age-Specific Films production. Australian distribu­ tor: Roadshow. 35mm. 102 mins. Australia. 1994.

BAD BOY BUBBY A N N A DZENIS

“ It seems to me the best way to deal with the preciousness of childhood was to go to the obverse side of the coin. It seemed to me to be better to talk about the dark side of it, to be dramatically more inter­ esting ...” 1

nlike films which set out to please and engage their audience, Rolf de Heer’s B a d B o y B u b b y shocks and horrifies.

Bubby (Nicholas Hope) is a 35-year-old adult/ child who has been kept locked in a basement­ like bunker by his “Mom” (Claire Benito). Bubby plays with mice, eats cockroaches and carries out cling-wrap experiments with his feral cat.

His mother is inexplicably psychotic, alterna­ tively beating him, fucking him. feeding him, and shaving him. She had told him that you can’t breathe on the “outside” and wears a gasmask every time she goes out. “Be still — God is watching you”, she commands and Bobby remains immobile until she returns. For the first 20 minutes, we stay in this Dickensian squalor, on a Beckett-like minimalist stage. After 35 years - literally all of Bubby’s life - “Pop” finally returns and, in a version of the Oedipus myth, comes between mother and son. Quick to react, Bubby cling-wraps the both of them and he’s out of there.

If you haven’t already left the theatre by the end of this opening sequence, the effect is euphoric. By the time Bubby emerges we are effectively used to seeing the world from his perspective. Part of this has been attributed to

U

one of the film’s proclaimed innova­ tions: binaural sound. A pair of mini­ aturized radio microphones and transmitters were built into Hope’s hair, so every scene was recorded with stereo sound from his perspec­ tive. Added to this technical persua­ sion, we have also shared something fundamental about his spatial con­ finement: no one told us there was an “outside” either.

The streets and shops of Adelaide have never looked so vibrant, so alive. There are trees, leaves, cars, a small child, dogs, cakes, unheardof words and phrases, music. Garish plastic fly strips look gorgeous. And, joy of joys, there’s pizza.

Bubby is an innocent. He’s nonjudgemental, unsocialized, and the outside world fills him with wonder.

Another unusual strategy De Heer employed was to film the different scenes of Bubby’s experiences from the perspective of 31 differ­ ent directors of photography. Originally a choice stemming from financial necessity, but when a slightly bigger budget was found, it still re­ mained an appropriate artistic strategy. De Heer describes Bubby as someone who “lacks a cohesive visual index”2. So the different DOPs create a continually fresh look to everything Bubby sees for the first time. The result is surprisingly seamless.

B a d B o y B u b b y has been compared with the European wild child films: François Truffaut’s L ’E n fa n t S a u v a g e (France, 1969) and Werner Herzog’s T h e E n ig m a of K a s p e r H o u s e r (J e d e r F ü r S ich u n d G o tt G e g e n Alle, Germany, 1974).

What it has in common with those films is a central character who has grown up “uncivi­ lized”. However, I’m reminded more of John Sayles’ T h e B ro th e r from a n o th e r P la n e t (U.S., 1984), where the subject is the strangeness of contemporary society, as it is reflected through people’s reactions to the character in the broth­ er’s care, an alien on his unplanned journey of discovery. There is also a tradition of films where lovable innocent aliens come into our world and see it anew, both to our delight and dismay.

B a d B o y B u b b y is finally a very moral film with a strong message about the state of our world. While Bubby approaches the world with openness and astonishment, there are many lessons for him to learn. Writing in Variety, David Stratton says, “Using Bubby as a kind of a sponge, De Heer is able to comment on many aspects of contemporary society in a totally uncompromising manner. Among those likely to be outraged are the devoutly religious, femi­ nists, animal lovers, and the Salvation Army.”3 Incest, sacrilege, violence, murder, robbery, ugliness, cruelty to animals, odd sexual prac­

BUBBY {NICHOLAS HOPE). ROLF DE HEER'S BAD BOY BUBBY.

tices, bodily fetishes, police brutality, and vio­ lence in custody are all part of Bubby’s experi­ ences, De Heer describes it thus: “The world is funny and tragic, ugly and beautiful, spiteful and forgiving, loving and hopeful, honest and hypocritical. That’s also how Bubby finds it and how it deals with him. The world, or rather the people within it, teach Bubby how to be.”4 It is an audacious vision and it is this vision, daring to offend, desiring to say something, coupled with Hope’s astonishing performance, that has resulted in international acknowledg­ ment for this Australian film. Atthe 1993 Venice Film Festival, B a d B o y Bubby won the Grand Jury Special Prize, shared with Robert Altman’s S h o rt C uts, the International Jury of Film Critics Award, and also was awarded the People’s Prize as the best film of the Festival. More recently, De Heer was nominated best director at the Seattle Film Festival.

Probably one of the strangest things about B a d B o y B u b b y is how it ends. Bubby metamor­ phoses from cultural isolate to cultural hero.

Towards the end of the film, he fronts a pub rock ’n’ roll band and performs his life’s experiences in a lunatic, dramatic, staccato way, something reminiscent of a hybrid between Nick Cave and Joe Cocker. The crowds love him and adopt his words, clothing and desires. His band even performs bound up in cling-wrap. The Bubby only a mother could love has become every­ one’s heart’s desire.

In the film’s very happy ending, Bubby mar­ ries his true love, Angel, they have twin boys, and live a suburban lifestyle complete with a garden, a barbecue, water pistols and pets. I’ve heard some people call the ending “soft” . But love, children and happiness are what many of us wish for ourselves, so why not for Bubby?

Notes

1 2 3 4

July-August 1994, p. 82.

July 1994, p. 9 6 .

Variety, 13 September 1993, p. 35.

Director’s statement in press kit.

HQ,

Rolling Stone,

Further reading: See interviews with Rolf de Heer and CINEMA

PAPERS

1 0 1 • 63

Nicholas Hope in this issue. Also, see Peter Moran’s review in “50a Mostra del Cinema di Venezia” , Cin­ ema Papers, No. 96, December 1993, pp. 42-4.

BAD BOY BUBBY Directed by Rolf de Heer. Producers: Domenico Procacci, Giorgio Draskovic, Rolf de Heer.

Scriptwriter: Rolf de Heer. Director of photography: Ian Jones. Production designer: Mark Abbott. Cos­ tume designer: Beverly Freeman. Sound designer: Jam es Currie. Editor: Suresh Ayyar. Composer: Graham Tardiff. Cast: Nicholas Hope (Bubby), Claire Benito (Mom), Ralph Cotterill (Pop), Carmel Johnson (Angel). Bubby (Adelaide)-Fandango (Rome) produc­ tion, with the participation of the South Australian Film Corporation and the assistance of the Australian Film F in a n c e

C o rp o ra tio n .

A u s tra lia n

d is trib u to r:

Roadshow. 35mm. 112 mins. Australia. 1994.

COUNTRY LIFE M O N IC A ZETLIN

midst the recent crop of Australian films such as M u rie l’s W e d d in g (P. J. Hogan), Th e S u m o fU s {K e v \n Dowling and Geoff Burton),

A

Th e A d ve n tu re s of Priscilla, Q u e e n of the D esert

(Stephan Elliott), B a d B o y B u b b y (Rolf de Heer), et al, reinvigorating our national cinema (and overseas interest in it) comes a film with rela­ tively ‘big’ name stars both by local and interna­ tional standards, but with a feel that places it out of kilter with the aforementioned films. While these films investigate Australian life and experi­ ence from a multitude of original and exciting perspectives, C o u n try Life harks back to an Aus­ tralian cinema long thought over, and perhaps wisely so. The immediate reaction to this film depends on what one thinks of that once old standby of our national cinema in the 1970s, the period drama, and it cannot help but be compared with this genre for its look and its theme.

C o u n try Life examines the impact of the val­ ues and viewpoints of ‘old’ Australia - i.e., colo­ nial British - on ‘new’ Australia - the people who have forged lives from an alien and hostile land and have re-focused their lifestyle accordingly.

Set just after World War I, the film starts with a scene in which Max Askey (Sam Neill), as the local doctor, has to attend to the odorous task of administering to the gangrenous leg of a local miner, amidst the squalor and hardship of a shanty mining village. Against this scene of hardship and outdoor suffering is contrasted the busy home of Uncle Jack (John Hargreaves), his niece Sally (Kerry Fox), and his mother Maud (Patricia Kennedy). In their large home­ stead, which has obviously seen better days, they fuss amongst the house help in their nerv­ ous anticipation of the arrival of Alexander (Michael Blakemore, also the director), Uncle Jack’s brother-in-law, and his new wife, Deborah (Greta Scacchi). The couple are arriving from England, where we are led to believe Alexander led a glamorous and lauded life as a theatre critic, rubbing elbows with the likes of George 64 • C I N E M A

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Bernard Shaw (a fact which keeps Uncle Jack in a state of excitement), and where he married the beautiful and much younger Deborah. Uncle Jack is particularly anx­ ious to impress upon the impending visitors that, although they may live in a primitive outpost, the family does not lack a veneer of civilization.

Sally has her own rea­ sons to be nervous: she hasn’t seen her father since a young girl, when he left to find fame and fortune in England after her mother died. Sally is a battler, having run the homestead with her Uncle since a young girl, and now a mature, if somewhat lonely, young woman. Not related, but just as impor­ tant in this ensemble cast, are the figures of the doctor Max, and of the friendly lodger, Wally (Ron Blanchard).

The arrival of Alexander and his wife set up the obvious tensions which underpin the film, albeit in an unsatisfactory and largely unengaging way. Alexander is a pompous pseudo-aristocrat, ignorant and disdainful of the Australian condition, and of his brother-inlaw’s struggle to keep the homestead going. It doesn’t take much to realize, however, that he is not the grand success he has set himself up to be, and, while Uncle Jack may be a bit slow on the uptake, he finally comes to this climactic realization. Deborah is a beautiful English rose, unsettled by the lifestyle of her new family, but yet strangely attracted to it - in particular, to the charms of Max, whom, unbeknownst to him, is also the object of attention for another female member of the family. Between the two of them, they manage to keep enough sexual and politi­ cal cross-firing going on in the family to fuel the symbolic interchange of colonizer and colo­ nized.

It is interesting to consider the film in two lights: the arguments surrounding what consti­ tutes an “Australian” cinema (what is Australianness?), and the current Republican debate and ongoing fear of cultural imperial­ ism. However, C o u n try Life would appear to be a reactionary response to these arguments, with its unimaginative treatment of this theme, and cliched generic devices. The connotations of an Australian period piece only serve to illustrate a cultural cringe at work.

C o u n try Life is ‘suggested’ by Chekov’s U n cle V anya, which only increases the feeling that the inspiration for the film is an outward-looking one, when there is plenty from within that war­ rants investigation. It adds to the double bind that the film finds itself in: while seemingly an

JACK DICKENS (JOHN HARGREAVES) AND DEBORAH VOYSEY (GRETA SCACCHI). MICHAEL BLAKEMORE'S COUNTRY LIFE.

examination of a formative Australian identity, it ends up coming across as particularly AngloCeltic in its outlook and construction. The the­ atricality of the thematic concerns is overplayed: ‘new’ Australia (as represented by the national­ istic doctor) battles against the staid and im­ practical Empire (the conservative townsfolk and the local business representative); Uncle Jack’s growing disillusion and eventual hatred for Alexander charts the progression of a re­ publican ideal and free-standing national iden­ tity, while his cultural cringe is revealed as needless, as Alexander is exposed as a selfdeluded hypocrite; Deborah’s infatuation with the doctor and her inevitable failure to consum­ mate it properly serves as an illustration of the colonial fascination for and fearfulness of the territories. And somewhere the figure of Sally swings between the two poles - her loyalties continually questioned - but, unfortunately once identified as a smitten woman, her interest to the viewer along with her role in the film wanes.

With such a collection of obvious talent, it is hard not to think that they are somewhat wasted in this film. John Hargreaves’ performance, while being overbearing at first, provides one of the few interests in the film, as he becomes a figure of increasing eccentricity and pent-up emotion. His performance is imbued with a touch of real manic intensity, amidst this some­ time meeting of over-actors anonymous.

Unfortunately, C o u n try Life indicates a re­ turn to a middle-brow filmmaking that is pictur­ esque at best, uninspiring at worst.

A COUNTRY LIFE Directed by Michael Blakemore. Pro­

ducer: Robin Dalton. Line producer: Adrienne Read.

Scriptwriter: Michael Blakemore. Director of photog­ raphy: Steve Windon. Production designer: Larry Eastwood. Costume designer: W endy Chuck. Sound recordist: Ben Osmo. Editor: Nicholas Beauman. Com­ poser: Peter Best. Cast: Sam Neill (Max Askey), Greta Scacchi (Deborah Voysey), John Hargreaves (Jack Dickens), Michael Blakemore (Alexander Voysey), Kerry Fox (Sally Voysey), Googie W ithers (Hannah), Patricia Kennedy (Maud Dickens), Ron Blanchard (Wally W ells), Robyn Cruze (Violet), Maurie Fields (Fred Livingstone). Dalton Films. Australian distribu­ tor: UIP. 35mm. 110 mins. Australia. 1994.

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P A P E R S 1 0 1 . 65

JONATHAN WHEATS (HUGO WEAVING) AND ROLAND COPPING (PHIL COLLINS). STEPHAN ELLIOTT'S FRAUDS.

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FRAUDS DAVID VALLENCE

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is the previously unseen first feature from Stephan Elliott, the writer-director of rauds

Th e A d v e n tu re s of Priscilla, Q u e e n of the Desert,

and faces the unenviable prospect of only ever being spoken of in the context of its younger, and more successful, sibling - and as the one with Phil Collins in it. While it is tempting and perhaps even proper to blame unimaginative and timid distribu­ tors for the failure of Fra u d s to gain cinematic release in its own right, one must concede that the film’s ‘experiment’ with genre, though innovative and therefore worthy of applause, is not entirely successful, and creates problems beyond those of generic categorization.

Its makers, Latent Image productions (in the form of Stephan Elliott and producers Andrena Finlay and Stuart Quin), describe Fra u d s as a “surreal black comedy”, but do these approaches play with normality or banality in different and possibly contradictory ways? In the context of Priscilla, such latent contradictions may now be seen as part of Elliott’s artistic impulse, although they are more successfully integrated to Priscilla’s narrative and aesthetic systems than is the case with Fra u d s. Indeed, Elliott’s stated intention to “bend genre” with Fra u d s may have set up con­ tradictions with the nature of genre itself.

In the beginning, the tone of F ra u d s is ‘natu­ ralistic’. Beth (Josephine Byrnes) and Jonathan Wheats (Hugo Weaving) are a youngish profes­ sional couple anonymously enjoying their patch of an indeterminate suburbia, until a burglary goes horribly wrong and Beth shoots the in­ truder with a cross-bow. This event heralds a more ominous tone, especially when we dis­ cover that the intruder is a close friend.

The shift away from comfortable naturalism continues when the mysterious and eccentric Roland Copping (Phil Collins), an insurance investigator with a penchant for dice, arrives to process their claim. The film then gradually introduces elements of fantasy (including flash­ backs and a dream sequence) as Roland pro­ ceeds to blackmail the couple, having revealed 66 • C I N E M A

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(to Beth’s dismay) that Jonathan is implicated in the burglary and was secretly attempting insurance fraud. Like any serious blackmailer, the child-like Roland continues to increase his demands, until Jonathan and Beth are forced tp fight back and eventually confront him in his Willy Wonkaesque citadel, craftily disguised as a Victorian terrace. By this time, any sense of ordinariness has been completely overturned and we are faced with a concluding sequence that shares none of the pretexts with which the story began.

Like most of the audience, I found myself laughing at Frauds, though I wasn’t sure why. The film’s brighter moments carry with them a sense of dislocation, so that the brief pleasures they provide are dissipated in the fruitless attempt to connect each to a coherent whole. Perhaps this problem can be traced back to the contradictions that Elliott has enthusiastically, though perhaps somewhat unwittingly, embraced.

Rather than mixing its generic modes of thirty-something banality, suspense-thriller and bad-acid fantasy, and thus creating the disturb­ ing juxtapositions which can be used to create surreal effects, or to ‘darken’ a story’s humour, F ra u d s sets out to “bend” genre, by having each successive mode merge into the next. This strategy is reflected in the film’s migration from Jonathan and Beth’s cosy suburban home to Roland’s strange city digs. But the strategy effectively separates each approach so that the earlier scenes fail to set up any frame of refer­ ence to indicate how we might ‘read’ the later ones, and the later scenes - removed from any meaningful context - serve only to visually denote surrealism, without (for me at least) creating the pleasurably distanciating ‘surreal effect’, or any of the dark humour that can only come out of normality, banality.

Frankly, F ra u d s fails to be very ‘black’ at all.

Elliott has spoken of the influences of cartoons and Steven Spielberg on his directorial style, and, like those masters of the consumer-friendly and culturally non-specific, the director seems to have consciously avoided any references to a geographic or cultural ‘place’ for F ra u d s to

inhabit, and has smoothed any ‘dangerous’ edges from its characters.

While the performances in F ra u d s are di­ rected proficiently, the film’s embrace of con­ tradiction also seems to have created problems of coherence for the actors. Apart from an unmotivated and unnecessary American ac­ cent, Josephine Byrnes suffers from this the least, as she essentially plays the ‘straight guy’ of the piece. A sometimes over-the-top Hugo Weaving provides many of the pleasures to be found in Fra u d s, but there is a distracting sense of ambivalence about Jonathan, wavering as he does between harassed victim and impli­ cated villain. Phil Collins is adequate, but hardly malevolent, and suffers from his extra-fictional status as the impossibly-nice and far-too-familiar middle-brow pop star.

But, as I mentioned, there are pleasures to be had from Fra u d s. Small lyrical touches, like Roland’s outrageous presumption to contribute to Beth’s unfinished painting, had my toes curling with glee. And while Roland’s strange house does tend to colonize the later scenes at the expense of the narrative, it is a stunning piece of art design.

Given that Stephan Elliott seems to have ‘gotten it right’ with Priscilla, at least on a formal level, perhaps the experiment of F ra u d s was worthwhile. Perhaps it provided the opportunity to test cinematic boundaries that others less bold would have avoided. This may be so, but if F ra u d s was also meant to find an audience, the experiment did not succeed.

Further reading: See interview with Stephan Elliott by Andrew L. Urban, Cinema Papers, No. 90, O ctober 1992, pp. 44-9.

FRAUDS D irected by Stephan E lliott. Producers: Andrena Finlay, Stuart Quin. Executive producer: Rebel Penfold-Russell. Scriptwriter: Stephan Elliott.

Director of photography: Geoff Burton. Production designer: Brian Thomson. Costume designer: Fiona Spence. Sound recordist: Ross Linton. Editor: Frans Vandenburg. Composer: Guy Gross. Cast: Phil Collins (Roland Copping), Hugo W eaving (Jonathan Wheats), Josephine Byrnes (Beth W heats), Peter M ochrie (Michael Allen), Helen O ’Connor (Margaret), Rebel Russell (Mother), Colleen Clifford (Mrs W aterson), Nicholas Hammond (Detective Simms), Kee Chan (Detective Allan), Vincent Ball (Judge). Latent Image production, in association with the Australian Film Finance Corporation. Australian distributor: Hoyts.

35mm. 92 mins. Australia. 1994.

HAMMERS OYER THE AN VIL FINCINA H O P G O O D

J

ust how do you go about adapting 21 short stories set in the Australian bush at the turn of the century for the cinema of the 1990s? It’s now eleven years since Peter Harvey-Wright bought the rights to Alan Marshall’s notebook of childhood stories and anecdotes; H a m m e rs o v e r the A n v il. This long gestation process, from his initial conversations with Marshall to the re­ cruitment of Ann Turner to direct and collabo-

rate on the final draft, has produced a sensitive and lively screen adaptation of Marshall’s sto­ ries, and a charming film in its own right.

Penguin Books Australia has released a special edition of Marshall’s stories to coincide with the commercial release of the film, and this includes a closing essay written by HarveyWright on the adapting and filming of these stories. He writes that his chief aim was to find the right balance between two often incompat­ ible goals: to remain “absolutely faithful - to both the writer and the work —yet at the same time to fulfil your own requirements”. In conver­ sations with Harvey-Wright, Marshall recog­ nized the inherent differences between the two mediums, and encouraged the producers and scriptwriters to use the film form to its fullest effect: “Don’t worry about my words.”

A fundamental concern in adapting several individual short stories for one feature film is the lack of a key focus for the narrative structure which will lead to the film’s climax or resolution.

Scriptwriter Peter Hepworth selected horsebreaker and womanizer East Driscoll (played by Russell Crowe) as the main charac­ ter, apart from young Alan himself, who would provide the necessary impetus for the film’s narrative. In both Marshall’s stories and the film, Alan (played by newcomer Alex Outhred) idolizes East and dreams of becoming a great horseman just like him. However, Alan suffers from infantile paralysis and is confined to crutches and a leg brace. This is a cruel fate for a young adolescent boy which denies him ac­ cess to the physical definition of manhood in a small country town, where masculinity and viril­ ity are measured by one’s power over a four­ legged animal.

As Alan struggles throughout the film to master simply mounting a horse, his relation­ ship with his hero, East, is matched by the growing illicit relationship between East and Grace McAlister (Charlotte Rampling), the wife of a wealthy landowner newly arrived from over­ seas. The Grace McAlister of Marshall’s stories is actually the young daughter of this landowner. In a separate story from that of East Driscoll, she falls pregnant to a young horse­ man and shoots herself rather than face the scandal of bearing a child out of wedlock.

Marshall wrote several stories of young girls falling pregnant, being sent away to bear the child and becoming social outcasts. This insight into the moral codes of the early 1900s is in­ cluded in the film in the adaptation of the story of teenager Nellie Bolster (Amanda Douge), who becomes pregnant after being seduced by Mr Thomas, the local priest and blacksmith (a sly Frank Gallacher). Linking Grace with East in the film draws these two narrative plots together.

Ann Turner’s involvement in the final script draft led to a crucial change in the relationship

between Grace and East: she suggested chang­ ing Miss McAlister to Mrs McAlister so that the film could explore another moral code - that faced by the adulterous couple - without re­ peating the tragic tale of teenage pregnancy.

Thus the Grace McAlister of the film becomes the dominant party of the relationship - older, stronger, more independent and determined to assert her own freedom as an individual, both from her husband and East himself. Turner wrote the part of Grace especially for Rampling, who gave up a two-year self-imposed exile to play the role.

The narrative focus on the three characters of East, Grace and Alan is further strengthened by the incorporation of other characters from Marshall’s stories to highlight the main themes of sexual relations, adult failings and social injustice, all seen through the eyes of a young boy. In adaptation, fourteen-year-old Alan is motherless. Harvey-Wright explains that this was a strategic decision designed to add poign­ ancy to relations in the Marshall household; Alan’s older sister Elsie (Kirsty McGregor) thus takes on a maternal role and becomes humorous in her cynically pragmatic approach towards caring forfatherand son. Alan’s motherlessness also strengthens the relation­ ships between Alan and his father (a sensitive and empathetic performance from Frankie J. Holden), Alan and East, and Alan and Grace, in whom he finds not only a mother figure but the focus for his own romantic longings which can only be realized vicariously through East. In the cli­ max to the growing crisis surrounding East and Grace’s affaire lies the true narrative resolution of the growth of Alan, measured by his increas­ ing ‘knowledge’ and ex­ perience of sexual matters.

Despite these bold (and, I believe, success­ ful) alterations to Marshall’s stories, there is still the utmost rever­ ence for the poetry of his text. Throughout the script, Alan’s narration is carefully balanced to il­

luminate, and not intrude upon, the action tak­ ing place on the screen. As Harvey-Wright explains, the narration was designed to reveal Alan’s thoughts and feelings, rather than de­ velop the plot, and to elicit from the audience a stronger sense of identification with him. Large excerpts taken directly from Marshall’s stories are used at key moments in the narration and also by the characters themselves within the film’s action - two memorable occasions being when Alan’s best friend, Joe Carmichael (a charming larrikin portrayed by Jake Frost), dis­ covers the notebook containing Alan’s stories and the embarrassment of both at Alan’s hon­ est account of the impoverished conditions of the Carmichael household; and one of the clos­ ing scenes when Alan’s father reads aloud an evocative description of “East Driscoll, the horsebreaker” and promptly declares that his son is going to be a writer. grace

M c A l is t e r ( c h a r l o t t e

r a m p u n g ) a n d e a s t o r is c o l l

(RUSSELL CROWE). ANN TURNER S HAMMERS OVER THE ANVIL.

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Filmed in the Clare valley of Adelaide, the sound and photography (DOP: James Bartle) combine to create a sense of character out of the physicality of this landscape, with the ech­ oes of bird calls and horses’ hooves reverberat­ ing around the hills and a palette of colours reflecting a variety of moods - a spectrum ranging from a wide distant shot of horses galloping across a golden hill, the waves of heat visible before the lens, to a close-up of the blue hand of a corpse on frost-covered grass.

The soundtrack is further enriched by the music of Not Drowning, Waving. Its variety of instrumentation gives greater compositional flexibility and eliminates the sense of repetition and familiarity which mars many film sound­ tracks. Only one theme is repeated throughout - a waltz which accompanies East and Grace’s outdoor dance with Alan - and each time it provides a perfect accompaniment to the visual image on the screen. Production designer Ross Major expertly recreates the country town of Turalla in the early 1900s.

This richness of individual talent might oth­ erwise have resulted in a fragmented and over­ crowded cinematic product were it not for the obvious clarity of direction with which Ann Turner brings all these elements together. Her own background as a writer (her script for Turtle B e a c h v io n an Awgie award) is perhaps respon­ sible for her sensitive adaptation of Marshall’s writings and images. The scrappy nature of the fight at the annual Catholic Ball is evocative of the numerous drunken brawls described by Marshall. Similarly, Alan’s nightly ritual of lying awake in bed to hear East’s horse cantering home at midnight recalls Marshall’s detail here.

But Turner also creates her own memorable images: a close-up of the handle of Alan’s crutch pushing the box which contains his note­ book under his bed; a shot of East’s foot caught in a stirrup which conveys in an instant the details of his tragic accident. She exploits Outhred’s look of wide-eyed curiosity to its fullest potential, his head alternating left to right as if watching a tennis match while Grace and East bargain with each other over the price of a horse. One of the most powerful exchanges between the three characters occurs at the ball: East wants to meet Grace outside and Alan becomes the go-between. Grace refuses East’s request and asks Alan to relay the message, stressing “You’re good with words.” Alan simply looks at East and shakes his head.

The insecurities and hardships of childhood form a common thread linking H a m m e rs with Turner’s critically-acclaimed debut, Celia. Both films premiered at the Berlin International Film Festival. C e lia was awarded the Jury Prize at the Creteil International Women’s Film Festival in Paris and a commendation at the Edinburgh Film Festival. Both films feature a great atten­ 68 • C I N E M A

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tion to historic detail (C e lia was set in the 1950s) and an exploration of the family unit as part of Turner’s own search for an Australian essence on the screen. It is now three years since H a m m e rs was filmed, during which time Turner has completed a third feature, D a lla s Doll, about the phenomenon of psychodrama therapy and its effects.

The strength of this adaptation of Marshall’s stories lies in its ability to give life to his charac­ ters on the screen. Crowe’s performance as East lends an added complexity and depth of feeling to the town hero of the book and is only overshadowed by his impressive skills as a horseman (he trained on his days off from R o m p e r S to m p e r) . Rampling does indeed have star quality; her presence on the screen com­ mands attention yet never threatens to over­ whelm the other actors. Outhred won the A.F.I Young Actor’s award for his performance as Alan. There are few scenes in which he does not appear and he rises to the challenge of carrying the bulk of the film’s narrative focus.

His only weakness is a slightly stilted delivery of the voice-over narration. Ironically, it is this same rawness and inexperience which makes him all the more malleable forTurner’s direction and the gamble of working with an inexperi­ enced actor pays off when she teams him with other characters in intense exchanges - most notably his playing around with Joe, his rapport with the crazy old Mrs Bilson (Alethea McGrath as both an hilarious and tragic figure - person­ ally, my favourite performance) and with his father, especially in their bitter argument over riding horses: Alan sees his shop-keeper father as a failure because he no longer rides horses and spits out with a typically childish vindictive­ ness, “I hate you!”

The film fully develops both its male and

DIRK TRENT (PAUL CHUBB) AND SANDRA (SUSAN LYONS). BILL YOUNG'S THE ROLY POLY MAN.

female characters. Although the events are seen through Alan’s eyes, the female side of the story (such as Nellie’s tragic fate and Grace’s courage and determination) does not go untold.

H a m m e rs is more than just the story of a young pre-pubescent boy but rather the stories of the people of 1910; it is Alan’s key function as a silent observer which ties these narrative vi­ gnettes together. The film’s title recalls the craft of the blacksmith, with footage of molten metal and blows from the hammer accompanying the opening credits. It is at the film’s closing that the symbolism of this title becomes clear: it is the blows life deals out on the individual which mould and shape a person, just as the hammer blows shape a piece of metal.

Further reading: See “Ann T urner’s Hammers Over the

Anvil” , a location report by Andrew L. Urban, Cinema Papers, No. 88, May 1992, pp. 12-4.

HAMMERS OVER THE ANVIL Directed by Ann Turner.

Producer: Ben Gannon. Co-producer: Peter HarveyW hite. Executive producers: Gus Howard, Peter Gawler, Janet W orth. Associate producer: Barbara Gibbs. Scriptwriters: Peter Hepworth, Ann Turner.

Based on the stories Hammers O ver the A nvil by Alan Marshall. Director of photography: James Bartle. Pro­ duction designer: Ross Major. Sound recordist: Phil Tipene. Editor: Ken Sallows. Musical director: Alan John. Composer: Not Drowning, W aving. Cast: Char­ lotte Rampling (Grace McAlister), Russell Crowe (East Driscoll), Alexander Outhred (Alan Marshall), Jake Frost (Joe Carmichael), Amanda Douge (Nellie Bol­ ster), Frankie J. Holden (Alan’s Dad), John Lee (Mr M cAlister), Daphne Grey (Mrs H erbert), Alethea McGrath (Mrs Bilson), PeterOsborn (Father Finnegan).

South Australian Film Corporation & Harvest Produc­ tions. Australian distributor: Roadshow. 35mm. 101 mins. Australia. 1994.

THE ROLY POLY MAN PETER; M A LO N E

is an entertaining contri­ bution to the Australian chuckle. The title sounds quite cute, but when Sandra (Susan Lyons) derisively calls Dirk Trent (Paul Chubb) “merely a roly poly man”, she is not flattering him. She has just given a strong sweet perform­ ance as an agreeable Susan Sarandon and has suddenly surprised him (and me) by slinkily emerging as slit-skirted, svelte Spider Woman.

It is that kind of movie.

This is a movie for movie buffs (whether they realize they are movie buffs or not). It relies on that intuitive connection of plot twists and char­ acters with genre conventions, especially of Hollywood movies. The ending, not the private eye’s realization that he has left his oddball brood of six children circulating Sydney on the tourist bus, but statuesque Sandra’s being chomped and devoured by the monster leech from the Amazon, took me back to A ra c h n a p h o b ia (Frank Marshall, 1990) and the welcome demise of the character played by Julian Sands. It will probably take audiences to other B science fictions via the A lie n series.

Writer Kym Goldsworthy has credits for tel­ evision’s H e y D a d , as has director Bill Young, who also has a history as a stand-up comic. As they approach the private detective genre and stir in the mutant creature genre, they rely on ocker humour to give it unity and persuade us that it all has a plausibility for an incredulous audience.

The Australian Film Institute selection com­ mittee has acknowledged this skill in giving T h e R o ly P o ly M a n a nomination for Best Original Screenplay. It is original in its absorbing of traditions and transforming them into deadpan wit (with Australian scatological touches). David Stevens has recently shown in T h e S u m o f U s (Kevin Dowling and Geoff Burton, 1994) that' audiences can enjoy the deadpan, the ocker intonations, vocabulary and wry turns of phrase.

This is where Goldsworthy can make us laugh.

Some of the exchanges between private eye, down-and-out and scungy Dirk Trent and his contacts are not all that far from that re­ nowned author of hilariously grubby dialogue, Barry Humphries.

A great deal of the success of the film is due to Paul Chubb’s screen presence. He can turn his large-bodied, often vacant passivity and his pinched-amazement intonation to oppressive righteousness (as in Paul Cox’s G o ld e n Braid, 1990), to funny slob (as in Brian McKenzie’s S ta n a n d G e o r g e ’s N e w Life, 1992). He relies on all of these here and turns Dirk Trent into a local concoction of grubby detective, slow-witted but sometimes shrewd observer, roly poly sympa­ thetic and put-upon middle-aged male and wouldh e H o ly P o ly M a n

T

be urban Sydney poet. Chubb has great timing.

Young has also got the. best out of the supporting cast. Susan Lyons looks so glamor­ ously respectable, a bespectacled morgue offi­ cial, that she provides such a contrasting attraction/battle of the sexes that Dirk Trent can seem a believably implausible sex object as he is pursued by a motel manager, a libidinous widow and ex-wife (Zoe Bertram) who looks and acts like Wendy Hughes in S u m n e r L o c k e Ellio tt’s C a re fu l H e M ig h t H e a r Y o u ( Carl Schultz, 1983), seductively determined to offload her offspring (six) on to Trent for the weekend.

And, surely, Les Foxcroft has one of the best roles as Mickey, Trent’s respectable sidekick, a scrawny ex-boxing champ who is a genius with technology and who takes the death of televi­ sion celebrity Woozie Bear very hard.

There are some very brief cameos that are particularly good: Deborah Kennedy, light years away from T h e S u m o f Us, as Chantal the man/ facist-hating television operator, and Barbara Stephens as a caricature nun.

Perhaps it should be noted that this is not exactly a ‘respectable’ movie. It relishes its seedy sets (Dirk’s office, his bar where sub­ titles of dialogue are necessary because of the band’s deafeningly raucous music, the morgue, with Boris and maniacal attendant), its naughtyboy pleasure in crude jokes and language and ooze-and-guts jokes (a handful of brains pock­ eted before going to cocktails, squelching a killer leech, firing cyanide-laced pigs’ blood into the giant mutant). I thought the absolute-courgge-of-convictions approach to it all worked successfully, and provides chuckles and laughs.

However, the very fastidious should be warned.

T h e R o ly P o ly M a n is symptomatic of recent Australian filmmaking: the prevalence of parody, especially of urban/suburban mundane preten­ tiousness and portentousness. We have only to look at post-S tr ic tly B a llro o m (Baz Luhrmann, 1992) successful movies, including all four of this year’s nominees for AFI Best Film Award: M u rie l’s W e d d in g (P. J. Hogan), T h e A d v e n ­ tures o f P riscilla, Q u e e n o f the D e s e r t( Stephan Elliott), B a d B o y B u b b y (Rolf de Heer) and T h e S u m o f U s. This means that we are less defen­ sive about our sombre selves, able to laugh at ourselves (which was not exactly a prevalent occupation in recent decades). To that extent, T h e R o ly P o ly M a n is good for us.

Dirk Trent is a sometimes gross, sometimes engaging Ocker Larrikin, and Bill Young and Kym Goldsworthy offer us a tongue-in-cheek movie tribute arid a contribution to Ocker grunge.

THE ROLY POLY MAN Directed by Bill Young. Producer: P e te r G re e n .

E x e c u tiv e

p ro d u c e r: J o n a th a n

Shteinm an. Line prod uce r: John W inter. Scriptw riter: Kym G oldsworthy. D irector of photography: Brian J Breheny. Production designer: Robert (Moxy) Moxham.

C o stu m e d e sig n e r: M a rg o t W ilso n. E dito r: Neil

Thum pston. Com poser: Dave Skinner. Cast: Paul Chubb (Dirk Trent), Les Foxcroft (Mickey), Susan Ly­ ons (Sandra), Zoe Bertram (Laurel), Frank W hitten (Henderson), Rowan W oods (Professor W auchop), Peter Braunstein (Detective McKenzie), John Batchelor (Axel). Rough Nut Productions in association with Kolapore Management. Australian distributor: Total Film & Television. 35mm. 93 mins. Australia. 1994.

TRAPS SCOTT MURRAY

ne of the most important aspects of early 1990s Australian cinema has been the emer­ gence of women directors. The funding bodies, particularly the Australian Film Commission, have done much to encourage and support this trend.

Pauline Chan, a Vietnamese national now resident in Australia, graduated from the Austral­ ian Film Television & Radio School after having made two striking shorts, H a n g u p and T h e S p a c e b etw ee n the D o o r a n d the Floor, both of which screened in Un Certain Regard at Cannes.

Encouraged by that success, Chan has made her first feature, Tra p s, which she co-wrote (with Robert Carter). Based on characters taken from Kate Grenville’s D re a m h o u s e , it is the story of a married English couple who visit Vietnam in the early 1950s.

Michael Duffield (Robert Reynolds) is a journalist-for-hire who makes weak pretence at objectivity and inevitably ends up writing ‘ap­ proved’ pieces for those who employ him - in this case Daniel (Sami Frey), a friend who is part of a French rubber consortium.

As the film opens, and Michael and wife Louise (Saskia Reeves) drive towards Daniel’s plantation, Chan crisply suggests that their marriage is on a troubled course. They pause for Louise to take a pee in a forest, where Vietnamese appear and disappear unnoticed.

The scene evokes atmospherically issues and tensions that will later more violently surface, even if the staging somewhat strains credibility (how could Michael not have seen the planta­ tion workers approach the squatting Louise?).

At the plantation, where Daniel lives with his teenage daughter, Viola (Jacqueline McKenzie), the Duffields try to find a balance between their needs as individuals and as partners in a union.

In particular, Louise fights to move beyond the disappointments of the marriage to notonly free herself from Michael’s domination but also his moral weakness, which tend to emotionally drain and inhibit those close to him.

Louise has remained with Michael - whom she sees and understands often quite clearlyin part through fear. This is symbolized by her apprehension at falling backwards from a wooden jetty into the glistening water. (Only near film’s end does she do this in an unneces­ sarily explicit moment.)

By choosing Vietnam as the backdrop, T ra p s

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VIOLA (JACQUELINE McKENZIE), TUAN (KIET LAM) AND LOUISE (SASKIA REEVES). PAULINE CHAN'S TRAPS.

adopts that dramatic convention of placing evolv­ ing relationships against a politically turbulent background, where social and physical forces bring about major changes on both individual and social levels. The parallels with the Duffields’ marriage are many: the Vietnamese try to free themselves from colonial rule and forge a sense of national identity; the French wish to be free of the self-imposed burden of being imperialist overlords and exploiters; and so on.

On a structural level, these and other paral­ lels add meaningfully to an interpretation of each other. Dramatically, however, they add little. The tension that is supposed to arise from the Vietnamese’s beginning to overthrow the French is unconvincing and imposes in no felt way on Louise and Michael’s marital concerns (when the time comes to leave the plantation, they could just as well be escaping a flood, a nuclear attack, a serial killer). This is perhaps the film’s greatest disappointment, and rather surprising, given the Vietnamese aspects are clearly close to Chan’s heart.

Equally surprising is Chan’s portrayal of the Viet Minh, who are mostly presented as rather sweet and innocent, hardly the bloodthirsty and cruel freedom fighters who so decisively de­ feated the massed forces of the West. The scene where they gently pick away at the lock on Daniel’s plantation gate renders them child­ like and silly. Chan obviously wants them to use the metal tool that is used in the plantation (symbol of capitalist exploitation), as a torture weapon (colonial repression), and so on, but it undermines the drama. There is a real need at this point for there to be a tension about whether Louise, Michael, Daniel and Viola can getaway.

A laboriously slow picking of the lock with a symbolic tool doesn’t help.

As well, Chan’s portrayal of the Vietnamese as the rightful owners and controllers of the land, and the wrongfulness of a French pres­ ence, may cause frissons for Australian view­ ers aware of the filmmaker’s origins. Chan, a refugee from Vietnam, was taken in, schooled and had her film mostly financed by a white government whose forebears overran an indig­ 70 • C I N E M A

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enous people.

It is hard to not think of, and be unnerved by, such ambigui­ ties in a film with the politi­ cal sensibilities and correct­ ness of Traps.

If the Viet­ namese as­ pects create some com­ ment, they pale against the widespread debate about the film’s casting. There is little doubt that Saskia Reeves, a fine actress in several overseas films, leads the cast as Louise, with a solid if not striking interpretation. Equally, Robert Reynolds is (for this viewer at least) spot on in his por: trayal of a spineless Englishman, whose at­ tempts to camouflage weakness with charm become increasingly transparent. Sami Frey, too, brings an appropriate Frenchness and sense of bourgeois and sexual decadence to Daniel, though he cannot be said to be an exciting actor.

That leaves the controversial casting of Jacqueline McKenzie as Viola. Obviously, McKenzie is not French and much too old (the clues to Viola’s age in the dialogue - too young to learn to drive; hasn’t finished her exams suggest the character is supposed to be 16 or 17)1. This age differential ensures that Viola comes across as a mid-twenties woman with the mentality of a child —unless, of course, one believes she is playing a dress-down, incestu­ ous sexual game with her father. Whatever one’s reading, McKenzie’s casting quite unbalances the film, tossing up all sorts of reverberations that have nothing to do with the scripted drama.

At the same time, and as H a n g u p showed earlier, Chan is at her most striking when deal­ ing with matters sexual. Here she evokes such passions and tensions quite forcibly, and the bedroom scenes between husband and wife are some of the finest in the film (along with the chilling strangulation of the Viet Minh boy in the under-stairs room). Some may find Chan’s un­ necessarily linking Daniel’s bisexuality with the decadence and decline of colonial rule, or even Michael’s momentary (?) gayness with a cer­ tain strain of English weakness, but there is no doubting that in such scenes her direction is at its most evocative.

Where Chan tends to falter is in having co­ written, and directed, dialogue that is too often stilted and over-stated. It rarely has the natural flow of real dialogue between people, or the stylization that can excite and elucidate by its

very manneredness.

Also disappointing is the film’s visual qual­ ity. Having gone to the trouble of shooting in Vietnam (as opposed to visiting The Philippines or Thailand, as most ‘Vietnamese’ productions do), with all its attendant difficulties, this is not a film that can or does evoke that region’s particular beauty or atmosphere. Many of the exteriors are underlit, such as by the hut on the driveway, where several conversations are quite murky. Chan has a crisp, clean eye for compo­ sition, but in this case (unlike her shorts) the images are sometimes just a tad matter-of-fact.

So, finally, how does Chan’s début stack up against those of her compatriots? Well, T ra p s is certainly a more complete and accomplished film than Broken H ig h w a y (Laurie Mclnnes, 1993) or B e D e v il (Tracey Moffatt, 1993), even if rather more conservative. For all their obvious flaws, Moffatt’s and Mclnnes’ films strike out in more dramatic directions, are visually more alluring and play with narrative in more startling ways. In comparison, much of Tra p s looks as if it could have been made by one of several competent, mature, European, male directors. To Chan, that may be a compliment; to others, it may be seen as a failure to contribute to what is perceived as the evolving female language of film.

But Chan has always been an individualist (at a time when Australian directors baulked at touching sexual issues, Chan charged in with the bold and confronting H a n g u p ), so hertaking of a different route to many contemporaries is neither surprising nor unpraiseworthy.

Tra p s is not an overly successful film, but, as first films in Australia go, it is a good start. If Chan has tackled more than she can handle, this is surely preferable to the many minor-key efforts passing as striking débuts these days.

Notes

1

In a Cinema Papers interview (see “Further Reading”), Chan gives the character’s age as 16 (p. 8).

Further reading: See interviews with Pauline Chan and

producer Jim McElroy, and with co-writer Robert Carter, both by Sue Adler, Cinema Papers, No. 99, June 1994, pp. 4-8, 9-11.

TRAPS Directed by Pauline Chan. Producer: Jim

McEiroy. Line producer: Tim Sanders. Scriptwriters: Robert Carter, Pauline Chan. Based on the book Dreamhouse by Kate Grenville. Director of photogra­ phy: Kevin Hayward. Production designer: Michael Phillips. Costume designer: Davie Rowe. Sound re­ cordist: John Shiefelbein. Editor: Nicholas Beauman.

Composer: Douglas Stephen Rae. Cast: Saskia Reeves (Louise Duffield), Robert Reynolds (Michael Duffield), Sami Frey (Daniel), Jacqueline McKenzie (Viola), Kiet Lam (Tuan), H o a T o (Tatie-Chi), Thierry Marquet (Captain Brochard). Ayer Productions in as­ sociation with Australian Film Finance Corporation, with the assistance of the Australian Film Commission and Film Queensland. Australian distributor: Ronin.

35mm. 95 mins. Australia. 1994.

Briefly

Park Kwang-Su’s B e rlin R e p o rt { 1991) and To the S ta rry Is la n d (1994); Kim Eu-Suk’s M a rria g e S to ry (1992); Im Kwon-Taek’s S o p y o n je (1998); Chung Ji-young’s W hite B a d g e (1991); Lee Myung-Se’s F irs t L o ve (1992); Kim Yu-Jin’s O n ly B e ca u se Y o u ’re a W om an (1990); and Park Chong Won’s O u r T w is te d H e ro (1991).

C O N T IN U E D F R O M P . 2

the world. Since hosting the Olympic Games in 1988, the country has joined the select ranks of Asia’s full and open democratic societies. Korea is Australia’s third largest export market and is poised to overtake the U.S. for second place.

Korea’s cinematic transformation parallels this economic success. The economy has moved from cheap labour, light industry and protectionism to high-tech, affluence and open markets. Likewise, Korea’s cinema has gone from quota quickies to quality productions able to compete with imports and to satisfy international art-house audiences.

The Festival will introduce viewers to recent works by Korea’s most acclaimed filmmakers such as Im Kwon-Taek, director of the internationally-renowned films S u rro g a te W om an and M a n d a la - and exciting newcomers - like Park Kwang-Su and Kim Eu-Suk. The eight features comprising the Festival are:

the same time. A boxed set is even being touted for enthusiastic Australasians.

Cinema Papers J. Brodie Hanns, who has been C in e m a P a p e rs ’ Administrative Officer for the past twelve months, is moving on to new endeavours. All at the maga­ zine wish her well.

Australian Film 1978-1994 Earlier this year, it was announced that A u s tra lia n F ilm 19 78 -199 2: A S u rv e y o f T h e a tric a l F e a tu re s

Corrigendum

(Oxford University Press in association with the Australian Film Commission and Cinema Papers, Melbourne, 1993) would be reprinted with minor corrections.

It has now been decided, instead, to publish a new edition of the book, including the additional years of 1993 and 1994, in November 1995. A book of similar methodology on New*Zfealand cin­ ema, presently being completed by two New Zea­ land authors, is planned for release by Oxford at

Throughout the article “Sue Milliken: Samson Films, Film Finances and AFC”, pages 36 to 39 in issue 100, the name of Film Finances’ principal, Richard Soames, was incorrectly spelt. C inem a P a p e rs apologizes to Soames, and to Sue Milliken, for the error.

As well, Quentin Tarantino’s surname was mis­ spelt in the cover photo caption and Bernardo Bertolucci’s Christian name was misspelt in the heading of his interview (p. 4).

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CINEMA

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B

W Êm tÊÊÊÊKÊm

a

B o

p

p - D I R E C T O R R O L F D E H EER ■ N M N 1C H O L A S 1

Rolf de Heer, to be a weedy, bitter, introverted misfit with a hideous childhood. This is not so.

He is a tall, good-looking, long-haired and bearded young man with a happy family back­ ground, and a childhood he describes as “revo­ lutions and tigers in the jungle”: exciting and adventurous.

Bom in Holland, he was one of six children; he was seven when the family moved to Indone­ sia, from where they fled as refugees back to Holland.

The family later moved to Sydney, where his father, a determined sort of chap, decided that builders were crooks, rejected all tenders and began to build his own family home. It only took him 20 years to finish, and for the first seven there was no hot water. For the kids, these were fun-filled days, but de Heer says his mother thought otherwise.

“My childhood was interesting and varied”, he says. “It was a supportive family.”

After leaving school, de Heer started work at the ABC and ended up as a publicist, which he hated. After seven years at Aunty, he was some­ what surprised at being accepted into the Austral­ ian Film Television & Radio School. “On the second day, I already knew I was in thé right place”, he recalls. “It was another revolution in my life. I’d gone to sleep intellectually.” He was 27.

Neither autobiographical nor born out^ of observing a particular person, B a d B o b B u b b y is all the more surprising for its searing vision.

Where did it come from? What were the influ­ ences that shaped it?

There were lots of little influences that made the film what it is. One influence was an actor whom I saw in his thirties playing a man in his seventies at NIDA. We decided to make a film together - but it didn’t happen, so I think he’d rather remain anonymous. Anyway, the idea of him playing an old man in a room occasionally venturing out appealed. But it wasn’t cinematic, which is why I abandoned it, and moved beyond that... to me observing and feeling things.

DE HEER:

IN T E R V IE W E D BY

sing Bubby’s non-judgmental view of the world, Rolf de Heer explores parts of it and we begin to see those parts much as Bubby sees them: as if for the first time, like children.

So we also question them.

What is beautiful? What is ugly? What is right? What is innocence? Guilt? Why? But Bubby does not arrive in the world at age 35. True, he has been locked away in a window­ less room all those years, but that is not to say he had no experiences. No, he’d discovered things about cats and cockroaches, his mother, his father, God, gladwrap, death, drink and sex.

In a way, he had experienced things most ol us would never come across. Yet it was all in a vacuum.

The power and veracity of B a d B o y B u b by may incline audiences to imagine its creator,

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How did it progress?

The idea was to make a very low-budget film, in which I could say anything and do anything: complete creative freedom, really trying to be bold and brave. I toyed with that for a few years, and it became the sort of script that I never thought I’d make. But it was liberating to do. I built a set of cards on which I’d write the ideas.

Then I got to a point where 1 needed some money, so I needed to do a script quickly. By then I was in South Australia and I thought I’d apply to what was then Film South to develop the script.

How much of the central elements were in your head at that stage?

Well, I had a beginning well formed and the rest

yvás less so. But the ideas had been with me for ten years, so, when I sat down to write it, it was quick, easy and the most pleasurable writing experience I’ve ever had.

What sort of film were you aiming to make?

! still wanted to make a film about music and perceptions and judging people too easily. Hy­ pocrisy goes hand in hand with judging people too easily. Thè central character was well forrñéd, and 1drove IT, more than it drove me.

Also, my views on television are not compli­ mentary, so the film intends to be subversive about television.

Ultimo in Sydney - and several of the scenes were conceived for Sydney locations. So it grew like that. But you have to remember, the process was distilled for ten years, and then was very intense for eight weeks while I actually wrote the script.

It is certainly unlike any other Australian film , and it is a film that I imagine would lose something if viewed on the small screen of television.

written on one of the main cards that I stuck to the wall.

And what is cinema? What is your answer to the card?

My answer to it is: partly instinct, and it goes into art and circus. Circus is about passion and larger ideas and philosophy and exploring soci­ ety in a direct way. In fact, it’s as commercial as a film with a much bigger budget. I insisted on a low budget to make it more commercial.

Well, the three words “IS IT CINEMA?” were

THifpugh Biibby’s eyes we see how ridiculous television can be.

The way wé’ré getting visually educated by the 30*Sècond grab is unfortunate. Something goes put of our culture.

There are tough things In the film, ’cause it’s á film, not television ... Okay, a few people will walk out in the first half hour. It was a question of how far we could go without alienating the audience.

Yes, it ’s tough at times and there are things you don’t want to see, but that gives way to something special. How would you describe Bad Boy Bubby as a film to someone who knew nothing about it, who hadn’t seen it?

What I wanted to come out of it was compas­ sion; to move people in every possible way, with humour, shock, appreciation of beauty.

There is certainly compassion in the scenes between Bubby and Rachel, the g irl suffering from cerebral palsy, when they are falling in love. It’s quite an extraordinary part of the film.

I wanted to show that because he has no refer­ ences to the world; his view of what is beautiful is different, so he can find someone beautiful Whom we would not normally call beautiful.

You know, there are these cycles of abuse Which generate more abuse... abused children, for example, often become abusive parents. I wanted to say that with enough love and atten­ tion the cycles can be broken. He loves her for what she is, not what she looks like.

Certainly what Bubby endured fo r 35 years was abuse of a unique kind. What sort of childhood did you have?

My parents are Dutch, and they have a great love of children in different ways. I have strong memories of my father, who is not very socia­ ble, yet spending hours winning over the confi­ dence of a small child. So I have a deep appreciation of children and childhood - that’s one of the reasons why B u b b y was made. It’s about letting people have a childhood.

Where do you th in k this film fits into Australiahcinema?

It’s neither consciously or unconsciously Aus­ tralian - or not Australian. It began to come to me when I was living in places like Pyrmont and

N ICH OLAS HOPE

Like de Heer, Hope was seven when his family migrated to a new land, in Hope’s case from Manchester to Whyalla, South Australia. The youngest of four children, Hope “had a wonder­ ful time” growing up in a working-class family that eschewed the sports field for the library every weekend. “We were limited to half an hour of television a day”, he says, “and I re­ member getting into trouble at school for read­ ing too much. It was seen as a sign of weakness.”

He had read Dostoevsky by the age of 12, but it was not until he became an adult that he recognized the benefits of “having a literary base”. Among the awards collected by B a d B o y B u b b y was a Best Actor prize from CIAK, the Italian Cinema-goers Association Jury. Ironi­ cally, Hope was on the dole by the time we met to talk about the film.

The firs t thing I have to ask is: What does a cockroach taste like?

I actually had my mouth full of chocolate ... a slight peanuty taste, though. Rolf ate one to convince me to do it. is that what convinced you?

Um, probably not, actually. But it showed that he wasn’t asking me to do something that he wouldn’t.

When we got to do it, it was under controlled circumstances. First, there would be only one take. Second, the cockroach came from a lab of some kind so it was kind of clean and healthy.

Third, it made sense in the context of the film, so I suffered a minor discomfort although actually it was more mental than physical.

What about Bubby; how did you create this character?

First, I read the script a lot of times. Then, for me, physicality is a key thing. That starts to inform the character. While he’s not autistic, I felt that elements of autism would help create him, so I watched videos and read about au­ tism. It’s a way of walking, mostly.

I also read case histories of a couple of

children who were brought up in the wild —wolf children, as it were, with no experience of civi­ lization. There are similarities, but they are more animalistic. I also decided that the cat was new in his life, and, as he tends to mimic everything, he’d be influenced by that. So I went to Claire’s [co-star Claire Benito] and watched her cats - she has about 20 of them. I also discovered that people left to themselves tend to become introspective. Then I worked out what his function is - he’s a conduit for the audience - and that really informs how you play each scene. To build and sustain that proved intense and exhausting, but less difficult than I had anticipated.

What were your firs t reactions to the script?

The script was fantastic: non-compromising, passionate and compassionate, I was really scared and really excited. But I accepted the idea that I was another risk in a very low budget film. Then it grew more scary when we got more money to do it ‘for real’.

How did de Heer find you?

I did a 20-minute short called C o n f e s s o r C a re s s o r by Tim Nicholls, which Rolf saw. Now this! It’s a bit of a worry. Where do I go from here? I’ve already had my Nirvana!

How would you describe Bad Boy Bubby in shorthand?

I’d say it’s a modern Frankenstein. Bubby is the outsider. But it’s also a celebration of humanity.

Was the process of making it strenuous?

It was the most supportive environment I’ve ever worked in - like a curtain of air. It allowed us all to make choices, and it allowed us to fail - safely.

You w ork mostly in theatre. Has w orking on this film turned you on to cinema?

I love working in theatre immensely, but film is an incredibly exciting medium. Part of it is that as an actor there is a point where you have to just let go and trust the director. This has been a good experience for me. I trusted Rolf implic­ itly - and it was exhilarating. | CINEMA

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101 • 73

FILM FESTIVALS Sydney and Melbourne Film Festivals

KAROL (ZBIGNIEW ZAMACHOWSKI) AND MIKOLAJ (JANUSZ GAJOS) IN KRZYSZTOF KIESLOWSKI'S TROIS COULEURS: BLANC.

Six Short Notes on the 41st Sydney Film Festival

Two hundred and twenty-six films or so, thir­ teen separate events, four venues, countless visitors, some articulate, some bewildered, some bemused, frame-by-frame analyses and nu­ merous forums: these were just some of the elements of the 41st Sydney Film Festival.

Though there seemed to be much more choice and though there seemed to be more people, it wasn’t the case that this was the “best” Festival of them all There were some memorable films, both short and long, both feature and documen­ tary, but not all of the elements were successful and a number of the most hyped films were, once again, disappointing. This was a Festival where the elements were so numerous, at times so overwhelming, that one cannot do much more in a short review than point a wavering finger at five or six salient areas.

THREE SHORT FILMS ABOUT AUTEURS (RENOIR, ROSSELLINI, HERZOG)

The Festival proper began with a short docu­ mentary on Jean Renoir. It examined the vari­ ous phases of his career as a filmmaker, novelist and biographer, and included a number of com­ mentaries by Claude Chabrol, Louis Malle, Bernardo Bertolucci, Bertrand Tavernier and Orson Welles. Not all of these were particularly striking, though Tavernier’s contrast between 74 • C I N E M A

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FIVE NOT SO SHORT FILMS ABOUT LOVE (AND HOW AUSTRALIA CONQUERED THE KNOWN WORLD)

RAYM O ND YOUNIS

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of fascism and romanticism, and their excesses.

Finally, in B e lls from the D e e p , Werner Herzog offers yet another obsessive and in­ tense meditation on the intersections of reli­ gion, myth and modern culture. Here, he travels to Russia to point his camera at shamans, faithhealers, Christ-figures and reverent peasants who claim to hearvoices, see angels and expe­ rience miracles. To his credit, Herzog does not mock these people or take a superior stance.

Not surprisingly, he seems to have much sym­ pathy for many of these individuals: he reads the translations in English with some gravity, for example, and his camera technique is unobtru­ sive; commentary is avoided. If his total avoid­ ance of irony is somewhat too generous at times, his interest in outcasts, fanatics, vision­ aries and people whose madness seems to him to bring them closer to God is, as one would expect, rarely less than engaging or distinctive.

His recent project of highlighting the failures of modernity and of rationality - in documentaries such as E c h o e s from a S o m b re Em p ire , S c re a m o f S to n e and L e s s o n s in D a rk n e s s — remains timely and provocative.

101

Carne’s autocracy and Renoir’s collaborationist approach, Bertolucci’s insistence on the pro­ phetic nature of La R è g le du Jeu (Renoir, 1939) and Welles’ emphasis on Renoir’s refusals to make the films his Hollywood producers wanted him to make were revealing. Most touching was the aged Renoir’s own realization that his pre­ vious attempts to emerge from under the shadow of Auguste Renoir through the cinema had in fact served to bring him closer to his great Impressionist forebear.

R o sse llin i S e e n b y R osse llin i promised much but did not always deliver, mainly because some of Roberto Rossellini’s own views on cinema are somewhat abstruse or question­ able. However, this was one of the most inter­ esting films of the Festival: excerpts from films such as G e rm a n ia , A n n o Z e ro ( G e r m a n y Y e a r Z e ro , 1947), P a isà ( P a is a n , 1946), S trom boli, Te rra di D io ( S tro m b o li , 1949) and F ra n c e s c o — G iu lla re di D io (F lo w e rs of S t Fra n cis, 1950), representing the three major phases of his career - the neo-realist period, the works with Ingrid Bergman and the didactic films of his last years - were shown in-between interviews in which Rossellini outlines his own thoughts on humanism and neo-realism, morality, brain physiology, the religious and ethical dimen­ sions of the cinema and on his desire for a poetics of orientation and spiritual renewal that is predicated upon a rejection of the aesthetics

“Love triumphant” might have been a suitable sub-title for the Festival. Certainly, four or five of the most memorable films in the Festival exam­ ined this vexed issue. Krzysztof Kieslowski’s Trois C o u le u rs : B la n c ( Th re e C o lo u rs : W hite) is an ironic study of an estranged man who at­ tempts to reawaken his wife’s love. It deals, in typical Kieslowskian fashion, with abandonment and humiliation, the relationship between love, anguish, revenge and, ultimately, a type of atone­ ment, hope and restitution. It also presents a particularly bleak picture of contemporary Po­ land. This is a world of angels, hoodlums and profiteers. Though the film lacks the measured intensity and the sustained innovative use of the colour and the frame in Blue, it does evoke again the sad but hopeful world of the D ekalog, where genuine human contact occurs fitfully but in mo­ ments of epiphany which alter the course of a life (and of a film) irrevocably.

W h a t’s E a tin g G ilb e rt G ra p e ?, at least for the first two-thirds or so of the film, is a beautifullyobserved, wry and sensitive tale of a young man who is torn between his duty to his family after the death of his father, and his desire to flee a town where nothing happens. Unfortunately, to­ wards the end, the doses of saccharine are too liberal and the whole tone of the film is altered. It could seem that the (Hollywood?) producers had too much influence and, as a result, Lasse Hallstrom’s hitherto light touch and winning con­ coction is quite overwhelmed by sentiment and

various other familiar artificial cinematic sweet­ eners. Nevertheless, the tension in Grape’s life dissolves as two relationships offer hope, love and presumably greater fulfilment.

La d yb ird , L a d y b ird is a harrowing story of a woman whose children are taken from her by welfare workers on the grounds that she is unfit to be a mother. The film is a powerful one in parts but, once again, there is an object lesson here: Ken Loach privileges extreme emotions such as wrath and fury: he eschews a balanced or sober account of the tensions between individual and state-tensions which might have been a source of great drama. Consequently, significant parts of the film become repetitive, circular or redun­ dant. It becomes much too predictable and is often overstated - anger, fury, wrath can lead to great cinema but they and Loach’s “sledgeham­ mer” approach cannot sustain a film that is almost two hours long without becoming shrill and without ultimately and ironically alienating the viewer whose sympathies the filmmaker had hoped to gain. Yet the film concludes with a tone of hopefulness and with an implicit affirmation of love. It is a pity that Loach did not spend more time on these positive things. The film might have been more balanced.

Two Australian films proved to be among the most popular. M u rie l’s W e d d in g is a deft tragi­ comedy that ingenuously combines songs from the 1970s with drama and farce. The film does not plumb any great depths on the question of the discrepancy between the intrinsic worth of an individual and social perceptions of what is valu­ able or desirable (hence the tension between Muriel and Mariel); it does seem to be unduly harsh on the institution of marriage; but it is a highly amusing, sometimes saddening, finally uplifting story of an individual who finds her own voice and her own place in relation to someone who values her for what she is and not for what she feels she has to be; for the friendship and love she offers and is prepared to receive.

T h e S u m o f U s , not surprisingly, was voted the most popular film. It boasts a marvellous and endearing portrait of a father (Jack Thompson) who has a homosexual son (and whose idea of a “classy”, romantic dinner revolves around a serving of “prawns and Ben Ean Moselle”!); a well-written script and detailed secondary char­ acters; a derivative but very effective use of black and white to evoke the past, and states of loneliness and alienation, as well as societal intolerance and ignorance. The film at times seems little more than filmed theatre and, al­ though it does not reach any dizzying heights in terms of technique or innovation, it is ultimately a convincing affirmation of extraordinary love; of relationships in which a couple is prepared to “risk everything”, even the ire and sanctions of uncomprehending communities.

III - 32 SHORT FILMS ABOUT GLENN GOULD François Girard’s film on the life and art of Glenn Gould is a fragmented reconstruction in collage-like fashion. It combines animation, computer graphics, x-ray footage, video film and more conventional sequences with actors to evoke scenes from an unusual life. In a Festival where the boundaries between docu­ mentary and fiction seemed untroubled, where the subject, be it Renoir, Rossellini or Lindsay Anderson, seemed easily, almost effortlessly, recoverable, and where historical reconstruc­ tions seemed unproblematic, it was refreshing to see a film in which these and other issues are problematized and questioned.

In Girard’s film, it is suggested that the historical subject is somewhat more elusive and problematic than one might commonly be­ lieve. It is also suggested that the task of recon­ structing the subject is one that is fraught with uncertainty and full of enigmas. The film, on one level, seems to be an acknowledgment of inde­ terminacy and the persistence of gaps and fissures in any attempted reconstitution of fleet­ ing presences, eccentric persons, fugitive lives.

IV - ZEN AND THE ART OF MISE-EN-SCENE The most satisfying element in the Festival was the Ozu Retrospective. (In fact, without this and without the participation of Donald Richie, the Festival would have been very disappointing overall.) It was also the most momentous event.

Ozu’s cinema, one suspects, is still alien to many cinemagoers in this country - that is their loss. It is a cinema which is acutely concerned with the dislocation of the family as a metaphor of social fragmentation and societal change;

with mutability and transience; with the depersonalizing influence of clockwork routines and occupations; with the divisions between parent and son or daughter: the shifting nature of values and the shifting perceptions of the rôle of individuals. In these senses, Ozu’s cinema is no less topical or apposite today.

The films are also remarkable for the con­ sistency of the signature and the techniques.

Ozu’s camera is still and unwavering: the view­ er’s focus is uninterrupted and the reflective gaze is paramount. It is as if one has a still point in an otherwise endlessly turning world, the better to see its metamorphoses. (The position of the camera, roughly at waist-height, sug­ gests the point of contemplation and repose in Zen; the position in which one meditates on issues of family, freedom, will, value, happi­ ness and fulfilment or the lack of these.) The films are remarkable also for the emotional range they evoke: from a deep sadness in films such as S o s h u n {E a r ly S p rin g, 1956) and To k y o M o n o g a to ri ( T o k y o Story, 1953), a quiet but insistent optimism and subtle affirmations of hope and growth in films such as B a k u s h u {E a r ly S u m m e r, 1951) and H ig a n b a n a {E q u i­ n o x Flo w e r, 1958), and happiness and exulta­ tion in films such as B a n s h u n {L a te S p rin g, 1949). The impeccable sense of composition, the use of red as a signifier of constancy in a world of flux in the late films (which were shot in colour), the remarkable performances from a dedicated troupe, and the elegance and grace of so many frames are notable indeed.

His cinema is somewhat marred by melodra­ matic music and by occasional overacting, and, at times, there is an element of repetition in clusters of films, but overall the series revealed FRANÇOIS GIRARD'S 32 SHORT FILMS ABOUT GLENN GOULD.

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LAWRENCE JOHNSTON S ETERNITY.

profound, unhurried and masterful filmmaking.

This is cinema replete with the drama (and comedy) of tension, rebellion, and reconcilia­ tion; with a tone of beguiling serenity, with an overarching maturity of vision and with mo­ ments of uncommon poise and remarkable beauty.

V -

aesthetics in any sense in Triu m p h d e s W illens becomes a deeply problematic question.

The documentary itself is impressive in structure and scope: it covers all of the key phases of her career and is technically proficient but the inter­ viewer often retreats just when we are on the threshold of the most important and incisive issues.

P ro fe s s io n : N e o N a z i is an earnest enough attempt to reveal the uglier side of neo-Nazism.

The director, Bònengel, insists that the neoNazis undermine themselves in the film - they are fanatical, intolerant and favour an elitist rhetoric of division. But the director’s reluc­ tance to comment, as he should have realized, renders problematic a number of points that he had wished to make. Thè intrinsic slippériness and multivalence of many film images generally means that such an image, left to its own de­ vices (in other words, without directorial com­ mentary), invites numerous and not necessarily congruent readings, including the types of proNazi elements that some German viewers have seen in the film.- It is difficult to resist the belief that the director has been just a little naive here.

Such faith in the precision or univocity of the film image is surely misplaced, particularly in a film such as this, where the voices of those who are opposed to the neo-Nazis comprise per-

haps one-tenth of the duration of the whole film.

VI - TWO OR THREE FINAL NOTES Overall, then, there were numerous notable films but very little to wax lyrical about. The Australian entries were quite strong - certainly Lawrence Johnston’s E te rn ity and the two fea­ tures mentioned earlier were attractive films. It is a pity that others could not be shown. If these three films suggested that our film industry is not in bad shape, the same couid not be said for other countries. Some of the most disappoint­ ing films came from Taiwan, China and Africa from countries where one has come to expect a very high standard of filmmaking. Likewise, if the Festival is a sound guide (and one may argue that it should be), the European cinema, it would seem, had a lean year: the French, Polish and Russian entries in particular were surely not representative or were very disap­ pointing with the exceptions of L iv in g with an Idiot, T h re e C o lo u rs : W hite and one or two others. Certainly, the American, British and Canadian entries also stood out. In 1995, the centenary of the cinema, one hopes that the Festival will build on its successes and provide a worthy celebration of world cinema, in the broadest sense of the term.

TWO FILMS ABOUT HATRED AND IDEOLOGY

Two of the most eagerly-anticipated films were documentaries on Nazism and its legacy: Th e W on d e rfu l H orrib le Life o f L e n i R ie fe n s ta h l and P ro fe ss io n : N e o N azi. The first film consists of excerpts from Riefenstahl’s films and from in­ terviews. Though Riefenstahl is still a forceful presence, her defence of Triu m p h des W illens (1935) sounds terribly unconvincing. She as­ serts in essence that aesthetics and ideology have nothing to do with one another, and claims ignorance with regard to the National Social­ ists’ racist agenda in Germany. Yet the facts of the matter are that the film had been commis­ sioned by Hitler- himself no innocent daisy with regard to the ideology of the Reich - and as an official record of a Nazi rally at Nuremberg. In the film itself, the speeches of Hess and Hitler are intercut with scenes of devotees and swas­ tikas without any trace of irony - on the con­ trary, these scenes are often hagiographic in tone and focus. There can be little doubt that the symbols of the Reich are not only elevated but understood; their rhetorical force is not undercut or questioned but magnified through the editing and cinematographical strategies.

Hitler is often portrayed in messianic terms.

And Riefenstahl accepted the German National Film Prize for it in 1935 - it should not be forgotten here that the judge was Goebbels.

The interviewer does not raise these points.

How the ideology is to be separated from the 76 • C I N E M A

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43RD Melbourne International Film Festival, June 2 - 1 7 1994 JOHN FOAM

Film festivals can be depressive, not for lack of a good programme, but for the realization of films missed. There were plenty of interesting films to see in the 1994 Melbourne International Film Festival, but the reasons much of the Festival is missed can be many: time con­ straints, lack of money, transport problems, timetable clashes, ora combination of the above.

And one should also include apathy, consider­ ing the ripples expressed in a recent issue of S to rm magazine.

With the exception of opening and closing nights, the Festival appeared considerably lowkey, especially as a media event. Perhaps the changes already in place for the Festival over the next couple of years will turnaround the short-falls which have eluded the organizers’ control and periodically dogged the event. Cer­ tainly, the move to the Regent Theatre in Collins Street by 1996 will give the Festival a new image as a Melbourne city event with the major­ ity of venues centrally located. The other pro­ posed change (planned to take effect in 1995) is the likelihood of having the Festival sched­ uled in July ratherthan June. Melbourne’s prox­ imity to the Sydney Film Festival has resulted in scant media attention and something of an

identity crisis. The new time is likely to give Melbourne the best of three worlds: a local, national and international profile.

Unlike previous years where the Festival tended to have ‘a pinch of this and a dash of that’, 1994 had a more specialist flavour. There was a sense of isolating those areas of interest with greater definition for target audiences, which is a good sign of the Festival’s actively initiating cultural debate and of settling ac­ counts with the oft-maligned concerns of cinephilia. One area where just such an initia­ tive has been slowly gathering pace over the past few years is in the Festival’s continuing Asia focus, wherein it has shown an equally eclectic mix of art-house work and the more commercially popular (though less accessible in Australia until recently) films by directors like John Woo and Takeshi Kitano.

The sign that the Festival is re-thinking its initiatives in a major way was made clear by its noble effort to embark on a special programme of Robert Mitchum films, and the possible at­ tendance of Mitchum himself. Regrettably, it didn’t come to fruition because the crutch for the event is still incomplete: a Bruce Weber documentary on Mitchum. It highlights the in-

tractable, spasmodic problerps of organizing specialist events such as this. No matter, such an endeavour was still made highly visible this year by the predominance of twp events: a selection of retrospective films from the PiperHeidsieck Classic Film Collection, end the broad field exhibited in the Animation Focus.

The Festival has always committed itself to Showcasing recent Australian films and, sur­ prisingly, they appeared to be the most widely attended of all events. But audience figures aside, only two of the films really deserve men­ tion, T h e S u m o f U s (Kevin Dowling and Geoff Burton) and B o d y M e lt (Philp Brophy).

T h e S u m o f U s is a modest-looking produc­ tion in comparison to the fanfare of the opening night film, M u rie l’s W e d d in g ( P. J. Hogan). Yet it is more thematically and stylistically challeng­ ing. The film deals with the relationship between a father, Harry Mitchell (Jack Thpmpspn), and his gay son, Jeff (Russell Crowe), and it dares to employ the device of direct address, which actu­ ally strengthens rather than shatters the entire surface of the narrative and dramatic fabric.

Jack Thompson’s role as Harry Mitchell is in many ways a reworking of his role as Foley in S u n d a y T o o F a r A w a y (Ken Hannam, 1975).

Foley displays all the positive, classic charac­ teristics of the mateship myth: strong-willed, rugged individualism, egalitarian, loyal to a cause. But there is also its dark side: Foley is essentially an emotional cripple incapable of a genuinely loving relationship with a woman, which comes to highlight any traits perceived as weak and thus underscores the homophobic tendency inherent within the mateship myth.

T h e S u m o f U s does indeed include a hu­ morous visual reference to S u n d a y , and in so doing points to the changed attitude toward masculinity in Australia in the 19 years since S u n d a y was made. Harry Mitchell, in compari­ son to Foley, exhibits the same positive traits, but he is open to sexual difference without it' becoming p threat to his masculinity.

The device of talking directly into camera is certainly essential in understanding the change of attitude. Harry and Jeff often suspend an immediate dramatic situation and offer their innermost thoughts on formative moments in their past. When having been made fully cogni­ zant of their personal histories, one realizes how the lack thereof can give rise to, and maintain, prejudicial assumptions.

Philip Brophy’s first feature, B o d y Melt, re­ volves around the inhabitants of Pebbles Court, Homesville - a princely established surburban estate - who have unknowingly become guinea pigs for a new body enhancement drug. It’s a film truly off-centre, weaving together and lampoon­ ing as many aspects of suburban culture as it can get its hands on, from FM radio to fluoroclothes, from newly-weds to the fitness craze.

B o d y M e lt \s a dynamic film

in the sense that its identity doesn’t rely on the woeful applause of being uniquely and proudly Australian. That is to say, where the temple of Australian film is sacred, this film is profane; where there’s sen­ sitivity, there’s perversity; vyhere there’s pro­ fessionalism, there’s clumsiness; where there might be a taboo (re: having to be socially aware/politieally correct), there’s irreverence.

The focal point of all this in B o d y M e lt is, of course, the body (“your body is a temple”) as it uncontrollably gives out, rips apart, throws up and melts down.

The curious thing about B o d y M elt is that it works the other way around as well, especially when films with somewhat ‘suspect’ interests are legitimized through serious-minded academic justification. It is a film that cannot be readily accounted for by the paradigms of our national film culture, which is not to say that it is a highly original film. B o d y M elt is certainly not shy on displaying its blood lines, it’s just that the herit­ age is cannibalistic rather than nationalistic.

B o d y M elt is thus akin to an illegitimate child, a little like the ocker films Australia made in the ’70s but were quickly disowned. In the context of today’s Australian film industry, B o d y M e lt is perhaps the ultimate ‘personal’ film in this re­ gard.

A restoration pro­ gramme initiated by the National Film Archive in London and the British Film Institute under the patronage of PiperHeidsieck resulted in the Piper-Heidsieck Classic Film Collection, which is made up of a number of film seasons. “Early Hitchcock”, which toured the country through the Australian Film Institute, was the first of these seasons. The selections shown at this year’s Fes­ tival are representative of a few film seasons currently nearing com­ pletion. Sam Fuller’s F o r ty G u n s (1947) and Richard Brooks’ In C o ld B lo o d (1967) come from

the season called “Black & White In ’Scope: The Anamarphic Vision”; O h ..,R o s a lin d a !! (1956) is part of “The Films of Powell & Pressburger” season; Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen’s O n the T o w n (1949) pomes courtesy of the “All Singin’, All Dancin': The MGM Musicals of Arthur Freed” season; and representing “The West­ ern” is none other than John Ford’s T h e S e a r c h ­ ers (1956). Given the impeccable quality of the prints, and just the very fact of seeing these films again, or for the first time, on the big screen is the ultimate justification for having this retrospective, no matter what excessively harsh criticism can be levelled at the films.

Perhaps in future years the Festival can organ­ ize forums around these kinds of retrospectives because they are certainly worth reappraising.

Animation has always played second fiddle to live-action film. But, probably as a result of the cult following of Warner Bros. L o o n e y Tu n e s, the popularity of television programmes like T h e S im p s o n s , exposure through commercials, coupled with ever-increasing advances in com-

THE BOLEXBROTHERS' THE SECRET ADVENTURES OF TOM THUMB.

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-77

FOUR RETROSPECTIVES: TOP LEFT: RICHARD BROOKS' IN COLD BLOOD-.

TOP RIGHT: STANLEY DONEN'S ON THE TOWN LEU: JOHN FORD'S THE SEARCHERS: AND BOTTOM: SAM FULLER'S FORTY GUNS

Showing for the bolexbrothers was T h e S e c re t A d v e n tu re s of To m

puter-generated imagery, renewed interest has been prompted across a wide field of animation techniques.

However, one animation technique some­ what ignored in preference to cel-animation is three-dimensional (3-D) animation. David Borthwick of the bolexbrothers and David Sproxton of Aardman Animation were on hand to enlighten the uninitiated. Both have their studios based in Bristol, which is really the centre for 3-D animation in Britain.

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Th u m b , a grisly re-inter­ pretation of the classic fairy tale. Borthwick was approached by the BBC in the late ’80s to do a series of short animated projects titled N u r s e r y C rim es. It was to entail six ten-minute animated episodes based on a clas­ sic fairy tale, but tailored for an adult audience.

The planners at the BBC got to see a snippet of the work-in-progress, but it was unrepresenta­ tive of the film’s unrelent­ ing bleak vision. But on the strength of this scene, the planners decided to sched­ ule the film for a Christmas airing, despite Borthwick advising against it. The film provoked a lot of negative reaction: BBC lines were jammed with outraged call­ ers, and consequently the BBC went cold on the whole ideaof doing aseries.

Borthwick, however, actually managed to get hold of a print of the film, retitled it T h e S e c re t A d ­ ven tu re s o f T o m Th u m b , and took it around festivals without the BBC knowing about it. The film immediately picked up several awards in its first year of doing the festival circuit, and, cou­ pled with interest from Manga Entertainment, French television and renewed interest from the BBC, it was decided to develop the pilot into a feature.

The techniques of the two studios differ in that Aardman specialize in claymation, while the bolexbrothers employed pixillation in the

interaction of latex models with human figures for T o m T h u m b . The techniques are different but the approach is similar in principle. Whether one is using latex or clay becomes irrelevant because the common denominator is the fact of imbuing life into something which is normally inanimate.

For Sproxton, the Festival put together “To­ tally Aardman”, a showcase of 17 pieces, the best known of which are A G ra n d D a y O u t (British Academy Award winner in 1990 and nominated for an Oscar the same year), C re a ­ ture C o m fo rts (winner of an Academy Award in 1991) and T h e W ro n g Tro u s e rs (sequel to A G ra n d D a y O u t and another Oscar win in 1994).

Aardman’s material is intriguing because it extends back to the late 19th Century with invention of plasticine, and to a close tie be­ tween science and magic. Just think of Mary Shelley’s F r a n k e n s t e in , o r th e M o d e r n P ro m e th e u s, which is about unchecked sci­ ence inbuing life into a dead object (with Prometheus, of course, being the man made,of clay in Greek mythology).

Clay animation on film first made its appear­ ance in silent cinema in conjunction with liveaction in what were called ta blea u x vivants, which initially were painted people that looked like sculptures. (A late example is Jean Cocteau’s B lo o d o f a P o e t.) These films usually involved a dream sequence bracketed by a sculptor working away, getting tired, falling asleep and then dreaming about the sculpture coming to life. In a lot of cases, clay animation was employed instead of painted human-fig­ ures. Clay animation stopped around 191:1, presumably because of the perfection of drama techniques and the commercialization of film, and didn’t come back into vogue until studios like Aardman came along in the late ’70S:.

Given the hurdles animation has had to overcome in the face of live-action, the Mel­ bourne Film Festival made a daring mové with the extensive presentation in the Animatijdn Focus. The Aardman and bolexbrothers films at least made up for the films regrettably missed;

Films We Love

Part

2

C O N T I N U E D F R O M P. 1 9

times, it fills out the story by becoming a visual travelogue, especially when a road journey from Brisbane airport (it’s actually Tullamarine airport doubling for Brisbane) to Broken Hill inexplicably takes in tropical rain forests, the Sydney Har­ bour Bridge, aerial vistas of coastal cliffs and obvious natural attractions like Ayers Rock.

Of course, not all in Bello onesto is prosaic, nor is the above necessarily inconsistent with the film’s dramatic structure. And perhaps it is just such commonplace ‘Australian’ features which give the film its eloquence, intermeshed as they are with the circumstance of a lonely immigrant wanting to enrich his life with a wife.

There is at one point a beautiful series of camera movements when Amedeo (Alberto Soldi), the Italian immigrant, is writing to his betrothed in Italy, a peasant girl from the South whom he has never met and believes now resides in Roma as a factory worker. Amedeo is seen in mid-shot propped up against a telegraph pole while in voice-over we hear the words he scribbles on his pad. The camera slowly pulls away high up into the air, and all round him is revealed a vast, empty, flat, sunburnt landscape.

The film then cuts to a shot of the Colosseum at night, then to a long-shot of Carmela (Claudia Cardinale). It is dark, the roads are wet and Carmela, all dolled up in a blonde wig, mini-skirt and black boots, stamps her feet against the cold, while street fires are burning and cars circle around her. Amedeo’s voice-over contin­ ues while the camera zooms into a close-up of Carmela.

Finally, the film cuts back to Amedeo where we left him, the aerial shot this time is descending as Carmela’s voice takes over from Amedeo’s.

The camera movements - away and toward the characters are the visual equivalent of their correspondences crossing vast distances. But embedded within this symmetry of movement is the emotional paradoxes of the migrant, of living between two worlds, simultaneously an insider-and-outsider within the host culture, and as insider-and-outsider with one’s original culture.

Carmela is not the peasant girl Amedeo had seen in a photograph which was taken 10 years ago, but a prostitute working the streets of Rome. Yet Amedeo is not the only one to be duped. He too is not whom he makes himself out to be. He cannot get by on his own appearance so he sent Carmela a photo of his handsome friend, Giuseppe (Riccardo Garrone), who lives in Broken Hill, owns an American car, a house, and is presum­

ably wealthy. Nor, finally, is Giuseppe the man he is supposed to be. When Amedeo entrusts Giuseppe to tell Carmela the truth, he does, and in the process woos Carmela for himself. Giuseppe takes her home, but his home is a brothel and he is a pimp (the source of his wealth).

Carmela and Amedeo end up together in his desert home of Bun Bun Ga, united in their misery. Enrichment or the hope of a better life is at the heart of the film’s motif of movement, but the paradoxical undercurrent is that in gaining more one still has less. Bello onesto is thus something of a “pink” neorealist film in which misery, sacrifice, loneliness and hardship are part of the exoticism of a new land.

But hope of a better life is not altogether impossible in the new land. Thus, it is apt to quote the speech welcoming Carmela to Bun Bun Ga. Dear Carmela, This is a historical day for Bun Bun Ga. You come from the noble and ancient country that is Italy: the country of Julius Caesar, the country of Michelangelo, of Galileo, the country of Marconi, the country of Caruso and of Pope Giovanni. You come to this corner of the desert to bring us a little of your old civilization.

1

2

3

Stuart Cunningham, “Decades of Survival: Australian Film 1 9 3 0 -1 9 7 0 ”, in The Australian Screen, ed. Albert Moran and Tom O’Regan, Penguin, Victoria, 1989.

Andrew Pike and Ross Cooper, Australian Film: 1900 - 1977: A Guide To Feature Film Production, Oxford University Press in association with The Australian Film Institute, Melbourne, 1980, pp. 337-8.

I believe Bello onesto is not available in this country on film. It was happened upon while browsing through an Italian video store; the video is not subtitled. Penta Films in Italy is believed to hold the theatrical rights.

BELLO ONESTO EMIGRATO AUSTRALIA SPOSEREBBE COMPAESANA ILLIBATA [Girl In Australia]

Directed by Luigi Zampa. Producer: Gianni Hecht Lucari. Executive producer: Fausto Saraceni. Scriptwriters: Rodolfo Sonego, with the collaboration of Luigi Zampa. From a story by Rodolfo Sonego. Director of photography: Aldo Tonti.

Art director: Flavio Mogherini. Costume designer: Bruna Parmesan. Sound recordists: Massimo Loffredi, Robert Peck. Editor: Mario Morra. Composer: Piero Piccioni. Cast: Alberto Soldi (Amedeo), Claudia Cardinale (Carmela), Riccardo Garrone (Giuseppe), with Corrado Olmi, Angelo Infanti, Elli Maclure, Joe Sofia, Betty Lucas, Fred Cullen, Noel Ferrier, Paul Kamsler, Frank Mattorella and Roger Cox. Gianni Hecht Lucari for Documento Films. 35mm. 114 mins.

1971.

★ -

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TO A D V E R TI$ E 1 N

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CALL (0 3 ) 429 5511

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When I hear the word “mediation” I reach for my shotgun: Shareholder’s Agreements LLOYD HART

ers to participate in a business competing with the company, or require unanimity on certain decisions. The contents of the Shareholders’ agreement may also be incorporated in the Articles of Association.

Some care must be taken not to fetter the discretion of directors by compelling them to vote a particular way, for directors must vote in good faith in the best interests of the company.

This can be done by requiring the relevant issues to be decided by the company in general meeting.

Here are some of the issues arising in Share­ holders’ Agreements: R oles

In a laudable spirit of optimism, however mis­ guided, collaborators in filmmaking often form a company either for on-going development of a number of projects or as a vehicle to make and market a film, thus avoiding entanglement with other enterprises.

The most common company structure in the industry is two equal shareholders who are also the only directors. Not surprisingly, at the time of formation of the company most filmmakers are too busy with the realities of the project to focus on the ability of the standard Articles of Association of the company to deal with unwel­ come disputes down the line. These may be the very people who later detect in each other the flexibility of the Pope and the compassion of Beria, or is it the other way around? The best safeguard - a continuing good relationship cannot be guaranteed. Even the most incurable social engineers in the legislatures believe that, don’t they?

A shareholders’ agreement is one way to provide a mechanism of dispute resolution, clarify the rights and powers of the parties, and head-off energy-sapping and costly litigation of a kind in which the motives of Mother Theresa would be called into question.

Broadly, a shareholders’ agreement is a contract among some or all shareholders en­ tered into at the time of formation of the com­ pany, dealing with the rights and obligations of shareholders in relation to each other and the company’s activities. It may, for example, state that shareholders are each entitled to nominate a director, compel shareholders to vote a par­ ticularway on named issues, forbid sharehold­ 80 ■ C I N E M A P A P E R S

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of the

P arties

The filmmakers may choose not to define the roles because, given the equal voting strength, the parties must reach agreement if the job is to be done. But by defining the roles, no matter how loosely, the filmmakers have to give some thought to the nature of their contributions and specialities.

S hare

of

P roceeds

In the types of arrangements we have pre­ pared, the two filmmakers usually share in­ come from the film equally. This would normally follow from their equal shareholding. It is com­ mon to provide that shareholders will be bring­ ing to the company under separate service contracts, specialist and equally-remunerated services, such as directing and writing.

D eath

or

I ncapacity

If one filmmaker is unable to participate through death or incapacity, the other may not wish to be in a de facto partnership with the relatives of the former, who may remind them of their own.

The shareholders’ agreement can deal with this by providing for a buyout, or for the new share­ holder to enjoy continuing economic rights but with less voting power. Usually, a buyout is to be preferred for the original intention is likely to have been to have working members; the new shareholders may be able to claim oppression and wind up the company.

D isputes

The standard Articles provide for the Chair of the Board to have a casting vote. In this struc­ ture, this can make one party theboss on issues to be decided by the board of directors. It has the advantage of removing uncertainty. It does not provide a satisfactory mechanism where the two members of a company are in durable conflict.

The agreement should allow for the parties to follow dispute resolution procedures such as mediation or arbitration. It can also provide for the winding up of the company for breach of the agreement. One method of treating irretriev­ able breakdown which we have utilized is to create an absolute right for one party or the other to go, for example by a “shotgun” clause, whereby the shareholder who has decided to call a halt designates the value of the shares and requests the other to choose between buy­ ing and selling at that price within a prescribed nurhber of days.

The “sealed tender” method requires both parties to place their nominations of the valua­ tion of the shares in a sealed envelope, which is then opened at a meeting with the company’s accountant or auditor. The person nominating the higher price must buy all the other’s shares at that price. These kinds of clauses allow the filmmakers to spy the instruments of torture well in advance.

As such, they are solutions of last resort.

The preferred course may be for each party to keep the projects with which they are most closely associated; the filmmaker getting the film up then gives the other a payment on commencement of principal photography.

There may be a provision for a shareholder to buyout a shareholder/director who has been inactive for a specified time.

Limitations or D isadvantages Where disputes must be resolved quickly in the middle of production of a film, the financiers may be unwilling to accept mediation and arbi­ tration. Those financiers, who would make the Marquis de Sade seem kind, may insist that one party or the other must have final say on various issues at prescribed times or that, if the parties are unable to agree, the financier may take over the film. Another practical matter is that neither party may have the money to provide the de­ parting party with a reasonable sum on buyout, or the parties may be unhappy with the method of valuation set out in the agreement.

In summary, a shareholders’ agreement can spare filmmakers the option of giving or taking strychnine, particularly if care is taken to meet the individual needs of the participants and the film. As a result, sane people want to avoid proceedings that would test the patience of Mary McKillop and satisfy the bloodlust of Attila the Hun. (I’m glad I definitely got that the right way around this time.)

F o r further in qu irie s: H a rt & S p ira, L e v e l 2 / 8 8 G e o rg e S treet, T h e R o c k s , S y d n e y , 2 0 00 .

T e l: (0 2 ) 2 4 7 5 0 08 , F a x : (0 2 ) 2 4 7 5858.

A note

on

Hart & S pira

Hart & Spira is one of Australia’s leading and most successful entertainment law firms. The

Kingsgrove Apartments Melbourne Australia Special Performing Arts rates for our Fully Self Contained & serviced Apartments

firm comprises Lloyd Hart, James Cooper, Tom Spira, Nina Stevenson and John Taggart.

The firm and its lawyers have acted for a number of the leading and developing film pro­ ducers, directors, writers, production compa­ nies, film insurers, media and sports personalities, together with musicians, song­ writers, authors, artists and photographers both in Australia and internationally.

The firm has wide experience in negotiating, structuring, documenting and completing inter­ national and local productions including inter­ national co-productions.

Lloyd Hart has for more than 13 years acted for Film Finances Inc., one of the world’s main completion bond companies.

Nina Stevenson currently is also the legal consultant to the Australian Film Commission (Film Development Branch).

Hart & Spira has well-established relation­ ships with leading entertainment law firms in the U.S., UK and Europe. More recently, the firm has been developing links with Asia by advising both local and Asian clients on mediarelated matters in the Pacific region.

The firm sets out to provide the full range of legal services to clients in the entertainment industry and, as a result, has structured itself to provide the following specialist services: Immi­ gration, Commercial, Litigation, Property and Family Law.

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Australia’s First Films C O N T IN U E D F R O M P .5 3

machines. The Limelight Department had equipment to print Lumière nega­ tive onto Edison positive by 1900.43 The Federation film was enthusias­ tically received at Her Majesty’s: The views of the procession changed too frequently [...] so that the effect was rather fragmentary, but, on the other hand, many different aspects of the pic­ turesque cortege were given. The audi­ ence warmly applauded the appearance of the Highland and Indian regiments as they wheeled under a triumphal arch, and there was also afforded at the last a wonderfully vivid glimpse of the Gover­ nor-General in his State carriage. How­ ever, by far the best pictures were those taken at the swearing-in pavilion. Here, the arrival of the Governor-General with a brilliant staff, the scene in the pavilion with the Archbishop reading prayers, the actual signing, and the departure of Lord Hopetoun with Sir F. M. Darley by his side excited overwhelming enthusiasm. Whilst the pictures were being shown, the orchestra, under Mr. George Hall, played some dashing march music, inducing the occupants of the upper circle and gallery to join lustily in ‘Soldiers of the Queen’ and other favorite songs. [...]

To-morrow night will be a command night, and it is announced that His Excellency the Governor-General and Suite will be present.44 Debuts of the film in other states were slightly delayed by the unexpected demise of Queen Victoria on 22 January 1901, with the subsequent period of mourning closing many theatres. How­ ever, sales of prints of this film must have subsequently been rapid as it was shown by dozens of touring companies in the various states and abroad: In Victoria, it was first presented by G. H. Snazelle’s “Our Navy” company at Melbourne’s Athenaeum Hall on 25 January 1901.45 It was also put on at Barry Rickards’ Bijou Theatre in Melbourne from 28 January46, becoming the first Australian film to screen concurrently at two venues in a single city. In provincial Victoria, the films were screened by Oyston &CRichards’ London Bioscope Company, commencing at Bendigo on 4 February 1901.47 Showings were also given by several of the Salvation Army Limelight Department’s touring companies.48 In South Australia, its first screenings were given at Harry Rickards’ Tivoli Theatre in Adelaide from 11 February 1901.49 Tasmanian screenings were provided by The Tivoli Company at Hobart’s Temperance Hall from 6 February 190150, in Launceston’s Bijou Theatre by the Commonwealth Vaudeville Company from 16 February 1901.51 Queensland screenings were given by the famous “Banjo” Paterson, who purchased exclusive rights to the Federation film’s exhibition in that state.52 He first showed them during a lecture on his Boer War experiences at Brisbane’s Centenary Hall on 12 February 1901. Later, he took them as far as Charters Towers on a northern tour.53 However, the lonely and strenuous life of a touring showman soon palled and, by July 1901, he departed for China on a journalistic assignment.54 British screenings were given by the New South Wales AgentGeneral in London after July 1901. The New South Wales Government Printer wrote to him on 17 June 1901 confirming 82 • C I N E M A

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A ct I.— Scene 2

S V D N E Y S E M I - C i RCUEAR Q U A Y , A.D.

2001.

J. C. Williamson’s patriotic pantomime, Australis, o r the City o f Z ero, in which the Federation films were first shown, provided this fanciful stage view of Circular Quay in the year 2001 - with a Harbour Bridge design which, fortunately, did not eventuate.

I

their dispatch: It will be noted that these films are of Lumière gauge - a fact which should be pointed out to anyone exhibiting. I hold the original negatives, which were taken by contract to the Government, and which, I regret to say, are somewhat patchy in character. Still, they form a record which is not otherwise obtainable. Pictures from these films were shown at Her Majesty’s Theatre, Sydney, for about six weeks, and for a similar time in Melbourne.55 The dispatch of a print to Canada is also noted in governmen­ tal correspondence.56 The Salvation Army Limelight Department only made one or two prints of its earlier short productions. Suddenly, it had dozens of print orders for the thousands of feet of Federation coverage. Overwhelmed by lab work and embarrassed by the profitability of this non-religious exercise, it was forced to register The Australian Kinematographic Company on 30 Janu­ ary 1901.57 Commissions to produce further films for external agencies could then be placed on a solid business basis. While clearly separating this work from its religious activities, the considerable profits were altruistically used to support Salvation Army social and religious work. This was one of several Salva­ tion Army commercial off-shoots in that period, including its Hamodava Tea import business, its manufacture of “Darkest England” matches, and a musical instrument production venture in St Albans (England).58 The profits from this first major production commission allowed the Limelight Department to buy Warwick Bioscope cameras and projectors to replace their obsolescent Lumière equipment in about April 1901.59 With the new “pan head” on its tripods, a range of lenses available for the cameras and a film load capacity of 1500 feet, 10 times that of the Lumière cam­ eras60, the Limelight Department became the undisputed leader in Australian production. The precedent of the Federation cov­ erage undoubtedly led to commissions from the Victorian and New Zealand governments to cover the Royal Visit to Australa­ sia later in that year - which will be the focus of a forthcoming instalment in this series.

NEXT IN S T A LM E N T

The next installment will focus on Clement Mason’s F lorodora and the film work of Sir Walter Baldwin Spencer, a pioneer anthropologist who went to Central Australia to shoot the first major corpus of Australian Aboriginal footage. This ground­ breaking effort produced 3,000 feet of film in two months, most of which survives intact.

A C K N O W LED G M EN TS

Those chiefly involved with the actual assemblage of this article were Clive Sowry (Wellington, New Zealand); George Ellis (Salvation Army Archives, Melbourne); and Pat Laughren, who provided the financial support of his institution, Griffith Univer­ sity, and arranged for our support under an Australian Research

Council Grant. Others directly providing consultation and/or materials for this article were: Melbourne: NFSA Melbourne Office - Ken Berryman, Helen Tully; military consultants: (the late) John Price, Barry Videon and Warrick Lisle; Ross Cooper.

Sydney: Above all to Judy Adamson, but also to Graham Shirley, Alan Davies, New South Wales State Archives (Globe Street office), New South Wales State Library.

Canberra: Barbara Perry (Pictorial Librarian, National Library).

At NFSA: Meg Labrum, Marilyn Dooley.

Brisbane: Richard Fotheringham, Anne Démy-Geroe.

Hobart: Peter Mercer, Alison Melrose, and particularly Tony Marshall at the State Library of Tasmania.

Last but not least, to my wife, Prue Long, who had to put up with my extended absences while gathering information.

N o te s

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

The films in “Soldiers of the Cross” were initially only 90 seconds long, each showing a separate story or subject with no continuity between them. The longest single subject filmseries previously shot were of the 1896 Melbourne Cup (about 6 minutes) and the 1899 Wills-Mobsby coverage of Wheat Harvesting on the Darling Downs (about 5 minutes).

Ford C. Ottman, H erbert Booth, Doubleday, New York, 1928.

For example, see Everyones, Sydney, 7 March 1923, p. 3; Everyones, 13 December 1933, p. 44; The War Cry (Melbourne), 4 August 1951, p. 8.

Victorian Public Records Office, Laverton: Company registrationNo. 9539, v. 933: box 39.

Discussed at length in Cinema Papers, June 1994, p. 60 et seq.

Cinema Papers, June 1994, pp. 62-3.

Gavin Souter, Lion and Kangaroo, Fontana, Sydney, 1978, p. 29.

Cyril Pearl, Australia’s Yesterdays, Reader’sDigest Services, Sydney, 1974, p. 15.

The South Australian Register, Adelaide, 2 January 1901, p. 6.

Punch (Melbourne), 3 January 1901, p. 2: “The Indian Guard of Honour”.

J. J. Keenan, The Inaugural Celebrations o f the Commonwealth o f Australia, New South Wales Government Printer, Sydney, 1904, pp. 2-7, 289-91.

Ibid, p. 2.

Commonwealth Archives were checked in Melbourne, Sydney and Mitchell (Canberra), and the State Archives of Victoria and New South Wales were also checked. The sole surviving records, apart from the NSW Government Printer’s “still” photographs, are NSW Treasury Department “Special Bundles” dealing with Federation at its Kingswood repository, but I was unable to examine these.

J. J. Keenan, loc. cit (ref. 11).

The Sydney M orning Herald, 25 October 1900, pp. 7-8.

J. J. Keenan, loc. cit., p. 289.

The Sydney Morning Herald, 27 December 1900, p. 6; 19January 1901, p. 13.

Ibid, 12 November 1900, p. 5.

Ibid., 20 November 1900, p. 5.

A. J. Perier to H. L. White, National Librarian, 26 October 1953, p. 2; also State Archives of New South Wales ref. 1/164 Government Printing Office, Copies of Letters Sent, Letter book No. 25 Departmental, p. 232. (Reference courtesy of Clive Sowry.) Letter dated 17 June 1901.

Australasian Photographic Review, 22 December 1900, p. 3: “The Com­ monwealth Celebrations”.

Cinema Papers, July 1994, p. 66: “Exhibition Difficulties”.

Australasian Photographic Review, 21 January 1899, pp. 2-3.

Ibid, 21 July 1900, pp. 20-21: “A NewAustralian Patent Triumph Retort”.

Victorian Colonial Provisional Patent 16945 received 13 November 1900.

See State Library of Victoria Microfiche MF367 for specification and diagram.

Australasian Photographic Review, January 1951, p. 9: “One People, One Destiny”, by A. J. Perier.

Sydney Mail, 26 January 1901, p. 207: “Dramatic”.

Australasian Photographic Review, January 1951, p. 9.

Australasian Photographic Review, 22 December 1900, p. 3.

State Archives of NSW ref. 1/163 Government Printing Office, Copies of letters sent, book no. 24, departmental p. 308 - Government Printer to Under Secretary for Finance and Trade.

Australasian Photographic Review, 23 January 1901, p. 25.

Cinema Papers, June 1994, pp. 65-6.

Numerous references to this encampment are scattered through The War Cry (Melbourne) during December 1900.

34 T he War Cry (Melbourne), 4 August 1951, p. 8; 15 June 1957.

35 These men were members of the First Biorama Company at that time.

Cook helped Perry to shoot Rough Seas at Shelly Beach, W arrnam bool with Brodie on 24 October 1900, and both were later involved with shooting the Royal Visit in mid 1901, Cook in Victoria and Brodie in New Zealand. See Cinema Papers, August 1994, p. 84.

36 Australasian Photographic Review, January 1951, p. 9.

37 Ibid.

38 T he Sydney M orning H erald, 19 January 1901, p. 2.

39 Ibid, 27 December 1900, p. 6: “Amusements”.

40 Ibid, 19 January 1901, p. 13: “Amusements”.

41 National Library Correspondence file P21, A. J. Perier to H. L. White, 26 October 1953.

42 The simple loop of film above the intermittent became known, as a result of its originator, as the “Latham Loop” and was the cause of much patent litigation.

43 Australasian Photographic Review, 22 January 1900, pp. 29-30: “Smart Work: The Army to the Front” gives detailed account of the Limelight Department’s processing of its coverage of the departure of the Second Victorian Boer War Continent. Printing from Lumière negative to Edison positive was undertaken on this occasion so that the film could be projected on Alex Gunn’s machine at the Melbourne Town Hall. This is the earliest evidence of this practice I’ve managed to trace.

44 T he Sydney M orning H erald, 21 January 1901, p. 8: “Amusements”.

45 A rgus (Melbourne), 25 January 1901.

46 A rgus (Melbourne) 28 January 1901.

47 Bendigo Advertiser, 4 February 1901, p. 1; Bairnsdale Advertiser, 21 February 1901, p. 2; M t A lexander Mail, 9 February 1901 p. 2.

48 The 1 January 1901 coverage of Federation was particularly revived by the Salvation Army touring companies in the course of their exhibitions of Colonel Peart’s lecture “Under Southern Skies” which premiered on 10 August 1902 at Prahran (Melbourne).

49 T he South Australian Register (Adelaide), 9 February 1901, p. 5; 11 February 1901, pp. 3, 8.

50 The M ercury (Hobart), 5 February 1901, p. 3; 6 February 1901, p. 2; 7 February 1901, p. 2.

51 The Daily Telegraph (Launceston), 16 February 1901, p. 4; 18 February 1901, p. 2.

52 Brisbane C ourier, 9 February 1901, p. 7; 11 February 1901, p. 4.

53 M aryborough Chronicle (Queensland), 12 February 1901, p. 3; 16 February 1901, p. 2; Rockham pton M orning Bulletin, 21 February 1901; Charters Tow ers M ining Standard, 27 February 1901, pp. 2-3; 4 March 1901, pp. 2-3; 5 March 1901, pp. 2-3; 8 March 1901, p. 3.

54 Clement Semmler, The Banjo o f the B ush, University of Queensland Press, 1974, p. 133.

55 State Archives of NSW ref. 1/164 Government Printing Office, copies of letters sent, book 25, departmental p. 232. Government Printer to AgentGeneral for NSW, London, 17 June 1901.

56 Victorian Public Records Office, Premier’s Department letter index refers to a letter from British Columbia re sending Federation film there, date unknown but letter no. RN4638 (probably 1902).

57 See reference 4.

58 Information from George Ellis, Salvation Army Territorial Archives, Melbourne.

59 Cinema Papers, June 1994, p. 66.

60 Australasian Photographic R eview , 22 May 1901, pp. 22-25: “Warwick Trading Co.” CINEMA

PAPERS

101 - 8 3

s h o r t

“ Quality, Innovation, Marketability

f il m s

How are short films?

C O N T IN U E D F R O M P. 2 7

HOOKS: You’re absolutely right, but that was to do with 10BA. Today we have to cope with the démise of the stations and with aggregation. Whereas television producers in Victoria used to sell their projects to Victorian network executives, and the battle would be at the network board table, now they have to get on a plane and sell them to the executives in Sydney.

My interest is not specifically financial. In the mid-’8Os, when people were fairly unhappy with 10BA films, the best drama made in Australia that year could well have been something made for television, such as a mini-series. That certainly isn’t the case today.

HOOKS: We have always said television was successful during 10BA, because the end-user was always, or most often, involved.

You could get a film off the ground without a distributor or any kind of marketplace stamp of approval. With television, for stations to put up the license fee at the start meant that it was something they wanted to be involved in, something they wanted to schedule.

They were very successful and it was a great shame that the whole system collapsed the way it did. Australia was developing a real export reputation in those mini-series, and, even at those 10BA prices of a million bucks an hour, that was about half of what you could make it for in England, and probably about a third of what you’d make mini-series drama for in the States.

We all wish there were more mini-series. And, in fact, when the ABC does them -B rid es o f Christ, H eartland and Stark - you get a sense of what we have lost. It’s really very sad.

Of course, The Battlers has just done very well and rated beautifully. Clearly the audience is in need of these kinds of highproduction-value drama.

FITCHETT: We can only fund about three or four a year through the Independent Filmmakers’ Fund. But last year’s batch was Mr Electric [Stuart McDonald], which won the AFI award; Seven Days under Mavis [Anna Johnson], which has just been invited to Venice; and Only the Brave [Ana Kokkinos], likewise. Those three have all been very successful and, prior to that, the Independent Filmmakers’ Fund funded Feathers [John Ruane], Lover Boy [Geoffrey Wright] and Bonza [David Swann], among others. It’s a development fund for filmmakers to go onto hopefully their first features.

Do you totally-fund shorts, or it’s just partial funding with AFC or whomever?

FITCHETT: Mr Electric and Seven Days under Mavis were totally-funded by Film Victoria, whereas Only the Brave was co­ funded with the AFC. HOOKS: The programme has been successful enough to warrant an increase in the budget. We have substantially increased the allocation to the Independent Filmmakers’ Fund this year.

Given the activity you have detailed in features, shorts* documen­ taries and television, how healthy would you argue is the Victo­ rian film industry?

HOOKS: Our statistics indicate that there has been an increase of about $27 million worth of production in the past year. We have gone from, and these are our figures, not the AFC’s, $90 million to $117 million. That’s a fairly substantial increase. Not all of it is our production, you understand.

I’m still very concerned that, whilst the recovery is happening, we don’t get anything like the inflated budgets or profit margins that filmmakers in other states often get. I’m concerned about our infrastructure. I’m concerned that the capital go back into the new technology, and new developments and the infrastructure.

It’s pretty important, obviously, to keep our facilities and our services at a functional level.

DOCUMENTARIES How are documentaries going?

C U LTU R A L D EV ELO P M EN T

FITCHETT: At the moment very well. Over the past couple of years there has been a lull in independent documentaries, but presently there are ten independent documentaries in production in Victoria. That’s a lot for us. As well, five have just been completed and are awaiting release. There are also two others definitely coming up.

FITCHETT: In Cultural Development, we fund organizations such as Cinema Papers, the Melbourne International Film Festi­ val, Open Channel, the AFI Awards and the Research and Information Program, and MIMA. We also fund special events and festivals such as the St Kilda Film Festival.

We also now fund the Australian Children’s Television Founda­ tion (ACTF). It used to be funded by Arts Victoria, but the money has now come across to us and we fund it as a cultural organization.

What are the returns like on documentaries ?

FITCHETT: They are low: between 8-10% across our portfolio of documentaries. For television drama, it’s about 50% and for features about 30% .

Do you get one-off hits in documentary as you do with features?

FITCHETT: Well, we weren’t involved in Cane Toads: An Unnatural History [Mark Lewis, 1987], but obviously that went into profit.

The ones that return well are those which sell overseas. Search fo r the W orld’s M ost Secret Animals [1989] has sold well and returned well to us.

But, yes, it’s difficult because, especially with the Documen­ tary Accord, you are making documentaries specifically for an Australian audience and for that network [the ABC or SBS]. Most of these are very difficult to sell overseas.

The FFC is subsidizing those projects and I would say the expected returns on them are very low. The FFC is doing them as a straight subsidy.

84 ‘ C I N E M A

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1 01

Is there any area you regret you are unable to fund, as opposed to being unable to fund it to a level you would wish?

HOOKS: Yes, the Melbourne International Film Festival. If it’s going to be of the calibre which the government would like, which I think is the Toronto model, then we are not resourced sufficiently to do that. That is a deep and abiding regret which we are aiming to rectify.

FITCHETT: Another area we would like to fund is interactive multi-media.

HOOKS: We fund some of them, on an experimental basis, and obviously we would want to be able to determine demand. It is one of the convergent sectors, and an area that we obviously have to monitor. We will be presenting that as a feasibility study to government.

URBAN EDGE

creative and financial successes, in Australian terms of box office. Peo­ ple hadn’t really pulled together and thought about the theme, the genre platform, that was represented in the films.

[Robin Wright, Film Victoria’s Production Liaison Manager, then joined the discussion.]

WRIGHT: I went to the London Film Festival last year and started speak­ ing to some people about it there. I knew the programme was at the NFT, and it was very exciting to see the way they reacted to two things: the thematic organization of the sea­ son we were suggesting, and the consistent quality of the work that was coming out.

I think a lot of that stuff which could have disappeared into the amorphous mass of New Australian Cinema has been given a focus. It’s something people can latch onto.

What does Film Victoria do in terms of marketing, as opposed to AFC initiatives?

WRIGHT: Something we are do­ ing at the moment is the Urban Edge season, which is a season of films that Film Victoria has put together. It showcases work that has come out of Melbourne in the past three or so years in an international forum. There are eight features, three short dra­ mas and three short documenta­ ries. They have all been produced with some input from Film Vic­ toria.

The season is going to London to screen at BFI’s National Film Theatre from 12-31 August. From there, it’s going on to Washing­ ton DC to screen in the American Film Institute’s cinema at the John F. Kennedy Centre, from 10-16 October, as part of a big festival of Australian arts at the Centre.

It’s very exciting for us and has become a really large event.

The season is arranged thematically around films that talk about Melbourne as an urban environment. They are very specific to place and to the sort of filmmaking that is being done here.

The features that we have are The Big Steal [Nadia Tass, 1990], D eath in Brunswick [John Ruane, 1991], The H eartbreak K id, H olidays on the River Yarra, Nirvana Street Murder [Aleksi Vellis, 1991], P roof, R om per Stom per and Spotsw ood [Mark Joffe, 1992]. The three shorts - Only the Brave, Rhino Christmas [John Armstrong, 1991] and Ruthven [Bruce Myles, 1989] were funded by the Independent Filmmakers’ Fund. We also have three short documentaries - K oories and Cops [Daryl Dellora, 1993], The Letter [Aleksi Vellis, 1992] and L ife at Little L on [Jo Lane, 1992] - that were executive produced by Film Victoria through the government film unit.

The other thing that we wanted to point out through the season is the interactive nature of the industry here in Melbourne: how the filmmakers move between the various types of films.

They make, like Chris was saying, a short film through the Independent Filmmakers’ Fund and then go on to do a lowbudget feature, or are working on a feature, or doing corporate work or a documentary for the government through the Govern­ ment Film Unit.

The season is being launched in Melbourne by Haddon Storey on 29 July and in London as well at Australia House on 12 August. The opening night film in both London and Washington is The H eartbreak Kid, and the American Film Institute invited three filmmakers to go along as well: Geoffrey Wright, Michael Jenkins and John Ruane.

Is this the first of a grand plan?

WRIGHT: No, it’s a one-off event. It’s very timely because these films came together at a particular time and I think they represent a phase in Melbourne filmmaking. I don’t think the same ideas are necessarily going to be carried on with.

HOOKS: We felt that those groups of films hadn’t been ad­ equately recognized as a genre, even though they have been

HOOKS: In terms of other market­ ing, we have done the SWOT analy­ sis - Strengths, W eaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats - and we are building a business plan for the Melbourne Film Office as we speak.

C H IL D R E N ’S FILMS HOOKS: I think we should also mention Victoria as a centre for children’s television. With all the animation and computer ani­ mation, the ACTF, Crawfords, Jonathon Schiff and so on, Melbourne is a little hub of excellence.

Next year in March, the World Summit on Television and Children will be held in Melbourne. That’s something we are all looking forward to, and will certainly put Melbourne on the international map.

It’s an interesting time in television all over the world. Some of the countries which have huge national broadcasters, and have always taken a significant interest in children’s television, are being threatened by the new cable technologies, satellites cross­ ing borders and so on.

Equally, in the States, where they have always had a really free hand and can do anything they like to their children, suddenly the parents are saying, “Enough already. We really don’t want a diet of crap from 6am to midday on a Saturday morning. Isn’t there something better that we can do?” That’s coming from the most free of free enterprises of the world.

So, they look at Australia, which has a combination of public broadcaster, commercial broadcaster, regulation and subsidy.

They look at that model as something the rest of the world might emulate. It’s quite extraordinary: little old Australia is leading the way. That is an interesting development.

Notes

1 John Hughes previously made Traps (98 mins), which was theatrically released in Australia in 1986. The AFC has also funded Aleksi Vellis’ second feature but apparently Vellis was considered eligible for more AFC funding because his first feature, Nirvana Street M urder (1991), was not funded as a feature but as a 50-minute drama; it just happened to end up longer (75 mins).

2 “Greg Smith: Director, New South Wales Film &c Television Office”, interviewed by Raffaele Caputo, Cinema Papers , No. 100, August 1994, pp. 24-8, 81.

CINEMA

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Australian films don’t get the same concern or care at places like Venice.

system works. Well, fuck them. I decided not to put Priscilla in the AFI Awards.

Unfortunately, most members of the crew, many of whom are on their first film, came to me one by one and said, “Okay, we know the way you feel about this, but we need this for our careers.” They put a pretty heavy lobby into A1 Clark [producer] and about a week and a half ago I cracked. What I said is put it in, but I don’t want to know about it. I’m not going to the Awards.

No. Cannes seems to me to be the only place that we Australians can sell movies now.

If Priscilla did win something, would it make you feel any different?

The AFI Awards are coming up and Priscilla seems certain to be nominated in many categories. How seriously do you take the AFI Awards ?

No, the system is wrong ... You can probably hear my blood boiling! I feel very strongly about this.

Stephan Elliott

C O N T IN U E D F R O M P .T O

will always be prepared to give me a go, or at least view the film knowing that they would really like to have it. If it doesn’t fit in, it doesn’t. But I know now I’ve become part of the family thing.

The same with Jane [Campion].

Will you print this?

Of course, if you want us to.

Good, because I’m appalled at the AFI. I’ve never liked the Awards, the system or the pre-selection committees. For years, I’ve watched good films be kicked around.

A year and half ago I did a film [Frauds] that was invited to Compétition at Cannes, and Toronto. Two and half months ago it won the Grand Prix at Brussels. I’m looking at the trophy right in front of me now. It was an absolute thrill to win first prize. Luis Bunuel’s son was a judge and there was a huge jury of all sorts of fabulous people. The Festival has invited me back next year. I can’t wait to go, because they are a really fabulous bunch of people doing a very unusual Festival.

So, here we have a film that has been praised around the world.

Love it or hate it, it has been noticed. Back here, it was entered in the AFI Awards and got one nomination, for costume design.

I was furious. This was my first time ever. I had supported them, I’d gone to the things, I’d voted, and here I was getting a major slap in the face. For example, Guy Gross’ work is one of the bravest pieces of film music I’ve heard. Yet, of the five people nominated for best score, not one was Australian. It just didn’t make sense.

Eventually, I bumped into some people from the AFI. I was having a bit of a bitch about things, when one of the people from a pre-selection committee spun around and said, “Well, I think the message they are trying to get to you is that you should keep your mouth shut in the press a bit more.” So, that’s how this

OPEN TO ALL PEOPLE

You obviously don’t feel the same about the FFC.

The FFC got dumped on a while ago on the press by a very snaky argument. Well, I’ve gone over the facts and figures, and a lot of it just wasn’t true. It was a pretty nasty piece of gutter j ournalism.

All I can tell you is that the FFC, which was screaming and yelling when we were trying to get Frauds up, because it was so incredibly difficult, has had a change in management. Andrena [Finlay] went in there and so did Katrina Hughes, who is so good in negotiations at Cannes. She just keeps them running.

The FFC is so supportive. They have realized that the only way it is going to work is if Australians start taking gambles and do the unusual pictures that the Americans won’t.

We don’t have the money, we don’t have the manpower, we don’t have the moVie stars to compete with expensive American films head on. All we are left with at the end of the day is lower budgets, ingenuity, freedom and imagination.

Do you feel you’re still learning all the time.

Absolutely. It’s fascinating. I’m having a ball. Every time I get out there, I learn something new, with more and more interesting stuff happening all the time. It’s a circus, but it’s a terribly entertaining one.

FILMOGRAPHY 1991 Fast (short) The Agreement (short) 1993 Frauds 1994 The Adventures o f Priscilla, Queen o f the Desert

12 - 21.

entries open through the private and state sch ool system CLOSING DATE FOR ENTRIES

86 • C I N E M A

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18

OCTOBER

1994

P R O D U C T IO N SURVEY

P E R M A N E N T TRUSTEES

B R O U G H T TO YOU BY

NOTE: Production Survey forms now adhere to a revised format. Cinema Papers regrets it cannot accept information received in a different format, as it does not have the staff to re­ process the information.

Information is correct and adjudged as of 22/8/94.

[ I

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Synopsis: A romantic black comedy about Minnie

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and a cop both decide to take refuge in the

Ian Anderson

Film gauge

16mm negative

Video transfers by Video master by

Complete Post Complete Post

Government Agency Investment Production

Richard Harper Alan Madden

Executive producer Director

a busy city. Lizzie Forbes lives above the shop which is run by her mother, Trish. Lizzie has a

ROUGH RIDERS

vivid imagination. She loves dressing up and

Prod, company

fancies herself as an actress ... a spy ... or a

Dist. company

detective, often with hilarious results.

Principal Credits

ON OUR SELECTION

Principal Credits George Whaley Anthony Buckley

Kodak

anism. She’s hot for Mick, not just because he’s

Video facilities

Network 8

cute and talented but being a woman he’s honest.

[No further details supplied.]

SAFC FFC

Production

ANGEL BABY

SAFC

Prod, company Production

Marketing

80 mins 35mm

Gauge Synopsis: A young female rodeo rider who is

Intrafilms (Rome) Inti, sales agent Cast: Ulli Birvé (She), Syd Brisbane (The Man).

Principal Credits

also studying Law at Brisbane University makes her mark in an arena traditionally seen as a

Synopsis: An intergalactic love story about a

Producers

Bruce Davey George Whaley

Based on original novels by Steele Rudd Martin McGrath DOP

W '

■

Wayne Le Clos

Editor

■ ■ 1 1

FEATURES POST-PRODUCTION

John Phillips Dany Cooper

Editor Production designer

Chris Kennedy

Fandango (Rome) Jan - Mar 1994

Prod, company Dist. company

Roger Kirk

Pre-production

Peter Best

Production

Mar 1994...

Production

Post-production

... Mar 1995

Principal Credits

Principal Credits

Kerri Mazzocco

Planning and Development ALL MEN ARE LIARS

Psilon

Composer

Maizels and Associates

■ 1

EPSILON Prod, companies

Costume designer

Planning and Development

Michael Rymer Ellery Ryan

DOP Sound recordist

Costume designer

Herbert Pinter

Prod, designer

Timothy White Jonathan Shteiman

Scriptwriter

FEATURES PRODUCTION

Lloyd Carrick

Sound recordist

Michael Rymer

planet earth.

Jonathon Stheinman Scriptwriter

Astral Films 21/3/94 ...

Director

domain of men.

[No further details supplied.]

Carol Hughes

Exec, producers

local festival. He falls hopelessly in love with band member Angela, who is flirting with lesbi­

Shooting stock

John Scott

Length

31/10/94...

19/12/94...

Synopsis: Mick, a 16-year-old country boy, cross dresses and joins an all-girl band in town for the

1:2.35

Development

Geoff Burton

DOP Editor

35mm 90 mins

Production FFC Cast: Toni Pearen, David Price, John Jarratt, Jamie Petersen, Carmen Tanti

Government Agency Investment

Tricia Waites Graeme Isaac

Producers

Prod, company Anthony Buckley Productions Roadshow Distributors Dist. company 19/9/94 ...

Pre-production

Screen ratio

Jenny Hicks

Director

Annie Breslin

Government Agency Investment

Tania Nehme Hendon Studio

Pamela Hammond Super 35

Gauge

Cowgirl Pictures Ronin Films

Sasha Drake

Length

DFL

Lab liaison

Wendy Chuck

Post-production

SAFC Kevin Williams

Opticals Laboratory

disused pawn shop that is their residence.

Synopsis: Glad Rags is a costume hire shop in

Production Post-production

Unit publicist

Phil Brock

Art Department

Patrick Walsh

On-set Crew

Brian Rosen

Lynne-Maree Dansey Jane Creswell

2nd make-up SFX

Make-up Hair

Lab liaison

Casting consultants

Paul Johnstone

Best boy O n-set Crew

Beverley Freeman

Cinevex Laboratories

Director Producer Co-producer

Colleen Kennedy Film Finances

Helen Carter

Rosen Harper Entertainment

Producer

Greg Molineaux Dan Hutton

Asst grip Gaffer

Continuity

Mixed at Laboratory

International distributor

Sound recordist Grip

Special fx photography

MUSHROOMS Prod, company

Mike Kelly Annabelle Denham Greg Burgmann

AFC FFC Icon Productions Inc.

Labsonics Labsonics Labsonics

Focus puller Clapper loader

1st asst director 2nd asst director

Aaton XTR

Recording studio

Sharon Jackson

Helen Carter

[No further details supplied.]

Camera type Sound transfers by

PA to Gerard Lee

Camera Crew

Focus puller Clapper-loader

Synopsis: A rural comedy based on the Steele Rudd novels.

Showt ravel

Mike Carroll Audine Leith

Camera Crew

(Mother).

Other Credits

Chris McGuire Stephanie Melino Sally Power

Atlab

International distributor Majestic Films Cast: Leo McKern (Dad), Joan Sutherland

Blake Dawson Waldron

Annie McEvoy

Prod, assistant

Giulia Bernardi

Marketing

Motion Picture Guarantors

Legal services Travel coordinator

Completion guarantor

Government Agency Investment

Production Crew

Prod, accountant

Gail Fuller

Post-Production

Maura Fay & Associates Doug Stanley

Tania Nehme Graham Tardif

Nicholas Bonham Kerry Thompson

Elizabeth Knight

Prod, co-ordinator

Christopher Corin Jacqui Harrison

Wardrobe

Doug Stanley

Location manager

Unit manager Prod, assistance

Wardrobe supervisor

Ray Hennessy Mason Curtis

Prod, manager

Cheryl Williams

Art director

Prod, manager

Peter D. Smith

Production Crew

Pam Willis Nikki Gooley

Hairdresser

Planning and Development

Prod, manager

Casting

Art Department

Vicki Niehaus Frank Strangio

Script editor

Karan Monkhouse

Continuity Make-up

Alex McPhee A.C.S.

Composer

Composer Creative collaborator

Toby Pease

2nd asst director

Production Crew

Tony Clark

Editor

Murray Pope Suresh Ayyar

Editor

Rolf de Heer

DOP Sound designer

Steve Arnold

DOP Prod, designer

Digital Arts Sharon Jackson

Scriptwriter

Gerard Lee

Scriptwriter

Sean Cuddy

Assoc, producer

Paula Paizes

1st asst director

Director

Budgeted by

Film Finances

Legal services

16/8/94 ...

Co-producer

Robert Connolly

Assoc, producer

Domenico Procacci Rolf de Heer

Robin Clifton

John Maynard

Producer

Rolf de Heer

Producers

Juanita Parker Steeves Lumley

Nomad Films International Pty Ltd

Pre-production Production

Casting

Maggie Lake

Location manager Prod, accountant

GLAD RAGS Prod, company

Director

Prod, manager

Director

Casting

Trish McAskill

Arenafilm Pinnacle Pictures 1 3 /6 /9 4 -6 /8 /9 4

Alison Barrett Casting Additional casting Prod, manager

Gerard Lee

Greg Apps

Production Crew Prod, co-ordinator

CINEMA

Yvonne Collins Jo Friesen

PAPERS

101 . 8 7

Producer’s asst.

Director’s attach.

Judith Hughes Tanja George

Location manager

Steve Brett

Asst location manager Unit manager Unit asst.

Production runner Insurer

Melissa Rymer Andy Pappas Jolyon (Joel) Simpson Emma Javold Tony Leonard Steeves Lumley Antonia Barnard

Completion guarantor

Film Finances

Camera Crew Camera operator Focus puller

Robert Murray Sion Michel Andrew Jerram

Clapper-loader Camera equipment Key grip Gaffer

Samuelsons Barry Hansen Ted Nordsvan John Brennan Greg de Marigny Greg de Marigny

Best boy 3rd electric Generator operator

On-set Crew

Camera equipment Key grip Grip

Samuelsons Scott Brokate Peter Stockley

Grip (location) Gaffer

Steve Wells Brian ‘Soapy’ Adams Tim Morrison

Best boy Generator operator

Chris Shananhan

On-set Crew 1st asst director

Chris Webb John Martin Tanya Jackson Julie Bates

2nd asst director 3rd asst director Continuity Boom operator

Chris Roland

Make-up

Jose Perez Jose Perez Loli Sanchez Heather Ross

Hair supervisor Hair stylist Make-up asst.

Safety report Still photography Double green room

George Mannix Suzie Woods Michael Batchelor Unit Facilities

Make-up/wardrobe bus

1st asst director 2nd asst director 3rd asst director Make-up

Euan Keddie Robbie Visser Damien Grant Kirsten Veysey

Hairdresser

Zeljka Stanin Jolyon (Joel) Simpson

Make-up bus driver Still photography

Jennifer Mitchell Fiona Searson, DDA Rick Herr Harley to Rose

Unit publicist Catering

Art Department

Publicist Catering

Hugh Bateup Sharon Young

Art dept co-ordinator Art dept attachment Set dresser Props buyer

Joanna Park Glen W Johnson Marita Mussett Dean Sullivan

Standby props

Wardrobe Standby wardrobe Asst costume

Isobel Carter Martine Simmonds

Post-Production Sound design Sound editor Laboratory

Frank Lipsom Frank Lipsom Cinevex Ian Anderson

Lab liaison

Synopsis: “Let me tell you somthing about my­ self, Dave. Ten years ago I was really fucked up.

I sat down one day and did some serious think­ ing. I decided to change my life. I took my life on

Principal Credits

Shane Aumont Steve Meier

Set decorator Standby props

Jill Eden Chris James

Wardrobe supervisor Standby wardrobe Costume cutter

Margot McCarthy Rachel Nott Laura Jocic

Construction Dept Construct, manager

Ian Doig (Kincaide)

Post-Production Zoran Rakovic Cinevex Ian Anderson

Video transfers/post Lab liaison Stock

David Flint, AAV Clive Duncan Steve Tayson, Kodak Cast: Caroline Gillmer (Hilary), Caroline Goodall (Meg), Joan Plowright (Marge), Ray Barrett (Wal),

Tim Stanley Sean McGovern Chris Cronin

Camera operator

Paul Meulenberg Lyddy Van Gyen Wayne Aistrope Mike Smith

Focus puller Clapper-loader Key grip

Paul Hamlyn Richard Rees-Jones

Best boy

Chris Herfeld i

1st asst director 2nd asst director 3rd asst director

Monica Pearce Karan Monkhouse Michael Oxenberry Mike Bakaloff Carmel Torcasio Andrea Hood Michael Oxenberry

Boom operator Continuity Make-up Runner

FFC

Synopsis: A roller-coaster journey to the fringes of the human psyche.

seaside family home by the disappearance of their father.

Still photography Catering

Production Cast: John Lynch, Jacqueline McKenzie

Barbara Gibbs Barbara Ring Kevin Plummer Miriam Ready

Asst, grip Gaffer

Derek Jones Mark Watson

Best boy

On-set Crew 1st asst, director 2nd asst, director

Vicki Sugars Adam Spencer

Standby props Wardrobe supervisor

Camera Crew

Stunt co-ordinator Safety officer Tutor Nurse

Brett McDowell John Tate

Ian Jobson Beverley Freeman

Prod, manager

Nicholas Bell (Edwin), Ben Thomas (Troy), Tara Morice (Pippa), John Hargreaves (Dick).

Synopsis: Three sisters are reuinted at their

Government Agency Investment

Key grip Grip assistant

Other Credits

Production Crew

On-set Crew

Asst editor Laboratory Lab liaison

Michelle D’Arcey Annie Benzie Benjamin Jasper

Gerald Thompson Geoff Hall Bronwyn Murphy Tony Patterson

DOP

Unit manager Unit asst.

Production runner

Art administrator Art dept assts

Terry Charatsis Barbara Gibbs

Sound recordist Editor Art director

Christina Norman

Art Department

Aleksi Vellis

Assoc, producer Scriptwriter

Prod, co-ordinator Prod, accountant Location manager

Julian Ryan

Production accountant

Gaffer

Director Producer

Keith Fish Tony Sisi

Simon Bennetts

Production runner

Focus puller Clapper-loader

Infinity Pictures South Australian Film Corp.

Sarah Royds Kylie du Fresne

Production secretary Location manager

THE LIFE OF HARRY DARE Prod, companies

Michael Davis Rowena Talacko

Production coordinator Producer’s assistant

Camera Crew

Costume designer

Asst caterer

Production manager

as a project. Do you understand what I’m stay­ ing?” A disturbing/uplifting film.

Mobile Production Facilities John Thronhill, Beyond Films

Wardrobe

Art director

Doherty (Kim), Helen Pigrum (Lisa), Alex Newton (Jason).

Zev Eleftheriou Zev Eleftheriou Rob Dekok Jenny Bichard Simon Stanbury Maria Blore

Continuity Boom operator

Sophie Fabbri-Jackson Fiona McBain Murray Gosson Wendy Cork

Standby wardrobe Hair and makeup artist Set dresser

Mary Christodoulou Judy Lovell Angelina Rosso

Post-Production Asst, editor

Lindi Harrison Liam Egan

Dialogue and FX Stills photographer

Brian McKenzie Cast: Lucy Bell (Mary M acKillop), Linden Wilkinson (older Mary), Brendan Higgins (Fa­ ther Woods), Brian Harrison (Bishop Shiel), Stephen Leeder (Father Horan), Frank Garfield (Bishop Reynolds), Brian McDermott (James Quinn), Ron Zines (Matthew Quinn), Vanessa Downing (Flora), Mitchell McMahon (John), Jaclyn Hewitt (Lexie), Rebecca Scully-Watson (Mary 6yrs old), Roslyn Oades (Sister Paula), Maureen Green (Sister Theresa), Dean Nottle (Gentleman), Nicholas Findlay (Tommy), Carol Skinner (Cook), Jane McDermott (SisterClare), Scott McGregor (Father Hughes) Synopsis: Mary MacKillop is one of Australia’s little known heroes. Despite excommunication and exile, Mary remained determined to bring education to the poor and underprivileged. More than one hundred years later, the Sisters of St Joseph, an order of nuns founded by her, has brought enlightenment and knowledge to hun­ dreds of thousands of people around the world.

In January 1995, Mary will be beatified by Pope John Paul II in Sydney as Australia's first saint.

Art Department BABE

LADYKILLER

Prod, company Director [No details supplied.]

Kennedy Miller Chris Noonan

Pre-production Production Post-production

HOTEL SORRENTO Prod, company

Bayside Pictures

Principal Credits Director

Richard Franklin

Producer Co-producer Scriptwriters

Richard Franklin Helen Watts Richard Franklin Peter Fitzpatrick Hannie Rayson

Based on play by DOP

Geoff Burton Lloyd Carrick Tracy Watt Lisa Meagher

Sound recordist Prod, designer Costume designer Editor

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Prod, secretary Location manager Unit manager Unit assistant Production runner

Michael Batchelor Paul Ammitzboli Cameron Stewart

Greg Helmers, Traveltoo

MotorolasBrett Woodhouse, Hirecom Australia

Camera Crew

88 • C I N E M A

Kathryn Milliss Leilani Hannah Jaems Grant

PAPERS

Editor Composer

1 01

$2,500 1/2/94 - 6/3/94 7/3/94 - 25/3/94 April 1994 ...

Prod, assistant

Bill Mousoulis Bill Mousoulis Bill Mououlis Laki Sideris Tim Joy John Humphries Bill Mousoulis Mike BellasMitchell Helen Hassoura

Camera Crew Laki Sideris Tim Joy Canon 1014XL-S Tim Joy

On-set Crew Continuity Boom operators Still photography Catering

Danica D. B. Tim Joy John Humphries Danica D. B.

Wardrobe Andrea Hood

Post-Production Asst, editor

Sara Jane Van Gyen

Shane Wilton Cast: John Moore (Harry), Gordon Weetra (Harry, 8 years old), Aaron Wilton (Jim), Billy Trott (Jim in his twenties), Bobbi-Jean Henry (Jem), Francesca Cubillo-Alberts (Dulcie, 1965), Carole Frazer (Dulcie, 1978-80s), Bob Agius (Bert), Carrie Mellett (Anne), Ben Nelson (Johnny), Tony Briggs (Dan).

Synopsis: Harry Dare is the coolest Aboriginal detective there ever was.The man spent years restoring his VW KOMBI only to have it stolen after its maiden voyage. Equipped with the de­ tective kit bought by young son, Jim, father and son trek off to find the KOMBI. Their search leads them to a relationship they never had, and to unravelling the mystery of Harry’s father’s disap­ pearance many years ago. A comedy about discovery.

Prod, company

R.B. Films

Principal Credits Mike BellasMitchell Kodak Ian Anderson Super 8 1:1.33

Shooting stock

Film Australia Furry Feature Films

Principal Credits Director

Mario Andreacchio

Mario Andreacchio Michael Bourchier Naonori Kawamura (Herald Ace) Exec, producers Ron Saunders

Attachment

MARY Danica D. B.

NAPOLEON Prod, companies

Producers

Moose

Post-Production Music performed by Laboratory Lab liaison Gauge Screen ratio

Moira Fahy Phil MacPherson Perscia Brokensha

Art dept runner

Art Department Art director

Yuri Poetzl Moira Fahy

Props buyer Props dresser Standby props

Standby Wardrobe

Production Crew

Greg Apps Sue MacKay Rachel Garnsey Jacinta Lomas ‘Spideri Neil McCart

Focus puller Clapper-loader 2nd unit DOP

Sound recordists

Camera assistant Camera type Gaffer

Prod, accountant Lyn Jones Producer office attach.

Kim McKillop Insurer Tony Woods, H. Wood Completion guarantor Antonia Barnard, Film Finances Legal services Chris Lovell, Holding Redlich Travel/Freight

Director Producer Scriptwriter DOP

Camera operator

Production Crew

Art dept asst.

Innersense Productions

Principal Credits

David Pulbrook

Planning and Development Casting

Prod, company Budget

Director Producer Consultant producer Scriptwriter DOP

Kodachrome 40 Cast: Rhys Muldoon (Chris), Catherine Hill

Sound recordist Editor

(Susan), Angela Twigg (Helen), Mary Bellas (Mary), John Papanicolaou (John), Gerard Stainsby (Mark), Peter Roberts (Geoff), Jennifer

Production designer Art director

Production Crew

Masato Hara Line producer

John Wild Mario Andreacchio

Scriptwriters

Michael Bourchier Steven J. Spears DOP Prod, designer Editor

Roger Dowling Vicki Niehus Edward McQueen-Mason

Other Credits Prod, manager Pro. co-ordinator Prod, accountant Location manager

Bridget Ikin Kay Pavlou Jan Kenny Mark Blackwell

Mason Curtis Kristin Witcombe

Continuity Focus puller

John Foster Kath McIntyre

Clapper-loader Grip

John Smith Tony Cronin

Standby props Unit asst.

Storyboard artist/admin.

Dog/bird wrangler Asst wranglers

Kay Pavlou Rosemary Blight

John Wild Sue Edwards Deborah Wilde

Dog consultant Asst editor Sound designers

Margaret Sixell

Still photographer Insurer

Angus Strathie Martin Brown,

Completion guarantor Finance

Brian Scaggs Kieran Weir The Cuong Truong

Alice Truong Mick Braddock Barbara Moore Adrián McQueen-Mason James Currie Craig Carter Carolyn Joiins Richard Oliver FACB FFC Herald Ace

Cast: [No details supplied.]

Continuity

Synopsis: A story of a happy suburban puppy,

Boom operator

Napoleon, unexpectedly transported into a natural bushland world.

Sound attach.

Matthew Archman

Make-up artist Make-up asst.

Hairdresser

Sally Gordon Sash Lam ley Sash Lamley

Choreography

Alan Lane

TERRAIN Prod, company

Archipelago Films

Production

29/1/94...

Stunt co-ordinator

Terry Kyle

Safety officer Still photography

Principal Credits Director Producers

Terry Kyle Peter Gregory

Associate producer

Publicity

Terry Kyle

DOP

Peter Gregory

Sound recordist Prod, designer Composer

Jeff Licence Adam Head

Geoff Weate

Graphics designer

Jeff Licence Tom Taylor

BVU-SP Cast: Jonathon Hardy (Ballard), Amanda Mires

Wardrobe

Synopsis: Isolated on a remote planet, the crew

Wardrobe asst

of research station Orpheus are forced to con­ front the unknowability of each other and the

Animals

hostile world they reside on.

Construction Dept

Prod, company Dist. companies Pre-production Production Post-production

Construction crew

Director Producer Assoc, producers Scriptwriter

Sound editor Asst sound editor Post-synch supervisor Musical director Foley Mixer

Paul Murphy John Schiefelbein

DOP Sound recordist Editor Prod, designer Costume designer Composer

Titles Laboratory Lab liaison

Planning and Development

Extras casting Shooting schedule by Budgeted by

Production Crew Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Prod, secretary Location manager Unit manager Asst unit manager

Prod, company

Emerald Films

Bradley Campbell Bradley Pimm

Budget Pre-production

$262,000 June 1994...

Production Post-production

Sept 1994 ...

Nov 1994 ...

Steve Courtney Harry Ward

Brenda Pam Jennifer Cornwell Kerry Mulgrew Chris Strewe Stuart Lynch Warren Stewart

Ron Roman

Scriptwriter Exhibit One Tony Short Gary Vaughan-Wilson

DOP Sound recordist Editor Composer Researchers

Lisa-Anne Morris Spectrum Films Karin Whittington

Script editor Shooting schedule by Budgeted by Prod, manager

Lee Smith Phil Heywood

Martin Hoyle Chris Rowell Kelvin Crumplin

Apocalypse

Video transfers by

FFC Production Pacific Film & Television Commission

Off-line facilities

Marketing

Development Beyond Films Pro Films

Asst grips Gaffer Best boy Electrics Casual electrics 1st asst director 2nd asst director 3rd asst director

Prod, manager

Natalie Elliott Jack Rath

Prod, assistants

■

Prod, company

Fertile Films $190,000 1/8/94 22/8/94

Production Post-production

12/9/94

Principal Credits

10:1 Kodak 7298 & 7293 Omnicon Frameworks

Prod, company Budget Production

Singing Nomads Productions $190,000 24/7/94 - 14/8/94

Post-production

14/8/94 - 30/11/94

Principal Credits Sally Ingleton Sally Ingleton Denise Patience Geoff Barnes Phillip Bull Leonie Dickinson Uri Mezrahi

Other Credits Research Prod, manager

THE BIGGEST RISK

Frameworks Movielab Martin Hoyle 16mm

Prod, accountant Completion guarantor Video gauge

Sally Ingleton Aida Innocente Mandy Carter Film Finances

Insurer Completion guarantor Legal services

Film Finances Roth Warren Solicitor

Post-production Editing assts

Bronwyn Smith

Edge numberer

Harriet McKern Oliver Streeton

Sound transfers Sound editor

Soundfirm Dean Gawen

Mixer Opticals

Dean Gawen Cinevex Apocalypse Cinevex

Titles Laboratory

Apocalypse Cinevex

Lab liaison

ian Anderson

Gauge Screen ratio Shooting stock

16mm/1 inch 1:1.33 Kodak 7293

Video transfers by

Apocalypse

Government Agency Investment Production

FFC SBS

NSWFTO Synopsis: Through an examination of the di­ verse social circumstances and family lives of a number of children bom in Melbourne in 1990, the film poses the question: “What are the chances of these children?” These family por­ traits combined with a portrait of the changing suburb of Fitzroy.

MISSING: PRESUMED ALIVE Prod, company Budget Pre-production

Cariyon & Rivette Pictures

Production Post-production

$349,909 June -July 1994 August - October 1994 Nov 1 9 9 4 -Jan 1995 Terry Cariyon

Exec, producers Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordist Editor Composer

Terry Cariyon A.C.S. Geoffrey Wilson Michael Collins David Hirschfelder

Other Credits Researchers

Robyn Miller Terry Cariyon Robyn Miller

Prod, manager Prod, accountant

Jane Corden,

Moneypennys Insurer Steeves Lumley Completion guarantor Chrisine Suh, Motion Picture Guarantors Legal services

Government Agency Investment

Camera operator

Development

Camera type Camera maintenance Still photography

Production

Terry Cariyon Michael Rivette Mark Hamlyn ABC Documentaries Robyn Miller

Michael Rivette, MJR

Betacam SP Film Victoria FFC

Director

Sarah Stephens

Producer Consultant producer

Eva Omer Fiona Cochrane

Synopsis: On New Year’s Eve 1991,56 Chinese Nationals landed in a wooden boat - code named “Isabella”, on the shores of far north western

Geoff Barnes

Australia. After weeks in the desert, all survived,

Exec, producer

Jenny Davies HW Wood

Prod, accountant

Director

DOP Sound recordist Editor

Budget Pre-production

Julie Burton Peter McLennan

James Manche

Editor

Production Crew

Principal Credits

Line producer Exec, producer

game on his terms.

Brett Marks

Bob Howard

Jenni Meaney Gretchen Thombum

DOP Sound recordist

and rural areas of Papua New Guinea.

killer holds the ace card and decides to play his

Jacon Parry

Paul Klican

David White Gregory Miller

Exec, producer Scriptwriters

THE ISABELLAS

Mike Kelly

On-set Crew

Georgia Wallace-Crabbe

Producers

Paul Murphy

Chris Fleet Phil Mulligan Mick O’Brien

Gregory Miller

Producers

Production FFC Synopsis: A film about the interactive elements of youth, culture, crime and music in the urban

Director Producer

DOCUMENTARIES

Margaret McNally Show T ravel

AFC

web of deceit, jealousy and self pity. His partner, Kelly Wheatstone, has her own agenda. The

■

Film Finances Heidtman & Co.

Government Agency Investment

Camera Crew

Key grip

H. W. Wood Australia

Lab liason Film gauge Screen ration Shooting stock

Agfa Apocalypse Spectrum

(Knowles), Jonathon Hardy (Henry Adams).

Synopsis: At the height of a murder investiga­ tion, Detective Frank Yanovitch is drawn into a

Camera maintenance

Insurer

Sound transfers by Laboratory

Jet Aviation Jet Aviation

Chris Taylor Samuelsons Grant Neilson

Tony Fofoe Jane Cordon, Moneypenny Servies

Other Credits

35mm Agfa

Travel Freight co-ord.

Focus puller Clapper-loader

Location manager Prod, accountant

Legal services Travel coordinator Freight cordinator

Monjo), David W oodley (David De Salvo), Vanessa Steele (Rachel Kossinger), Craig Ashley

Camera operator

Marcus Schintler

Completion guarantor

Film Finances Martin Cooper & Co.

Starwagons Australia Pacific Film & TV Commission

Leisl Hillhouse

Prod, coordinator

Legal services

Unit truck Qld liaison

Mark Worth Sally Browning Sally Browning Sally Browning

Production Crew

Rick Lisle Karin Whittington David Hirschfelder

H. W. Wood Australia

Starwagons Australia

Annou Borrey

Rose Dority

(Helen Martelli), Gary Day (Steve Dogherty), Shane Briant (Kevin Bosey), Craig Breslin (Justin

Cast van

David Bridie

Government Agency Investment

Inti, sales agents

Clark Film Services Clark Film Services

Mark Worth Robert Bums

Planning and Development

Michele D’Arcey

Make-up van Wardrobe trailer

Glenys Rowe David White, SBS Mark Worth Roman Baska

Exec, producer

Cast: Patsy Kensit (Kelly Wheatstone), Robert Reynolds (Frank Yanovitch), Rebecca Rigg

Insurer Competion guarantor

Mark Worth Sally Browning

Producer Co-producer

Phil Morant Angella McPherson

Unit asst Production runner Prod, accountant

Gregory Miller

Directors

Andrew Wheelan

Director

Phil Eagles Sacha Drake

Print stock Video transfers by Off-line facilities Video master by

Phillip Avalon Lynda Wilkinson

August 29 - mid December

Principal Credits

Georgia Wallace-Crabbe

BOYSTOWN

Michael Tolerton Kristin Reuter

Gauge Shooting stock

Liz Mullinar Casting Rose Garcia Bob Howard

Production Post-production

Priscilla Cameron

Movielab

Neg matching Grader

Gerard McGuire

Script editor Casting

$195,000 July 1994 2/8/-26/8/94

Georgia Wallace-Crabbe

that people with physical disabilities deal with issues relating to sexuality in their daily lives.

Atlab Rick Springett Optical & Graphic

Mixed at Opticals

John Scott Phil Warner Rosalea Hood David Hirschfeilder

Film Projects

Budget Pre-production

Other Credits

Jean Tropeano Exhibit One

Asst editor Sound transfers

Phillip Bowman Brenda Pam Clive Fleury

James Bellamy

Tracey Robertson

Post-production supervisor

Clive Fleury Phillip Avalon

Debra Annear

Mandy Carter Tony Gibb, H. W. Wood Australia Film Finances Completion guarantor Legal services Roth Warren, Bryce Menzies

Post-Production

2/5/94 ...

LIFE CHANCES Prod, company

Peter Stott Camera assistant Synopsis: The Biggest Risk looks at the ways

Carpenters

Principal Credits

John Philips

Principal Credits

Construct, supervisor Scenic artist

Beyond Films Pro Films 14/2/94 ...

21/3/94 ...

Composer

Quinnele’s catering Angela McPherson

Animal handler

Avalon Film Corporation

boat people back to the Kimberley to tell his story.

Angela Christa

Insurer

Phil Morant

Wardrobe supervisor

TUNNEL VISION

waiting for asylum. The Isabellas follows one of the

Peter Friedrich

Prod, accountant

Warren Stewart Hans Van Beuge

Armourer Action vehicle co-ord

(Aria), Gerowyn Lacaze (Lear), Daniel Kealy (Joyner), Sallyanne Ryan (Manderson), Marc James (Felle)

Leonie Dickinson

Editor Art director

Prod, runner

Keith Byron

Props buyer Standby props Standby props asst

Gauge

with more than 300 other Asian boat people - all

Prod, manager

Greg Skipper

Asst art director Art dept runner Set dresser

Other Credits

but were soon placed in detension at Port Hedland

Peter Falk

Production Crew

Art Department

Craig Hanacek

Set realisation

Sound recordist

Rea Francis Publicity

Make-up/wardrobe bus Catering Runner

Sarah Stephens

DOP

Chris Anderson

Cast van driver Cast driver

Belinda Glaistner

Scriptwriter

Scriptwriter

Jenny Quigley Chris Goldsmith

Terry Cariyon A.C.S. Super 16 Aaton XTR Lemae Film Rentals Keith Platt

Post-Production Post-production supervisor Sound editor

CINEMA

Sean Meitzer Doron Kipen

PAPERS

101 . 89

Recording studio

M&E Sound Laboratory

RABBI) RITES OF PASSAGE WHAT’S SO FUNNY?

Picture editor

Tania Nehme

Sound editor

Simon Whitington

Laboratory

Cinevex Film Laboratories

Lab liaison Grader Film

Siggy Ferstl

Camera Crew

16mm 7248, 7293

Camera assistant Gaffer

Grant Millar

Shooting stock Video transfers by

■

SHORTS

lloura The Facility Pty Ltd

Off-line facilities Video master by

The Facility Pty Ltd FFC ABC

Publicity

ABC Publicity Synopsis: Each year in Australia hundreds of children go missing. ..many run away to escape unhappy or abusive homes, others are victimes of personal wars between parents who see custody as the only major victory. The film traces the painstaking investigation to recover one such child.

THE DARK SIDE OF DESIRE Prod, company

Prod, company

Prospero Productions RPTA PRIMETIME (Inti.)

Dist. company Budget Pre-production Production

$457,158 25/7/94 - 25/8/94 26/8/94 - 3/11/94

Post-production

1/1 /95-31/3 /95

Principal Credits Peter Du Cane

Producers

Ed Punchard

Production manager Location manager Production secretary

Julia Redwood Ian Pugsley

Camera type Gaffer

Prod, manager Prod, accountant Insurer

Tony Weller

Completion guarantor Legal services Camera operator Make-up

Hannan & Co Film Finances Rob Carton-Smith Ian Pugsley Rachel Stevenson

Stunts co-ordinator Safety officer Shooting stock

Rick Parish Phil Percival Betacam

Government Agency Investment Development Production

Screen West FFC

Marketing

Rosalie Wilson Melissa Lintot Melissa Lintot Judy Brown & Associates

Best boy

gramme moves from the swashbuckling age of the Dutch East India Company, paying particular attention to the bloodcurdling tale of the wreck of the Batavia, through to tales of modem skuldug­ gery, where treasure-hunters plunder underwa­ ter historic sites.

SOMETHING TO SING ABOUT Prod, company

Something To Sing About Pty Ltd ABC TV

Dist. company

Principal Credits Producer Development Production

Laboratory Telecine Sound post-prod.

Agfa XT 100 Phillip Monsour

Chris Brown Cast: Graham McManus (Old Man), rest of cast to be announced.

Synopsis: Experimental form of cinema which focuses on the human subconscious, body Ianguage, Freudian dreams, and the sexual and emotional fantasies.

ROBERT WHO? Prod company

Opus Film

Pre-production Production

Feb - April 94 May - June 94

Principal Credits Director Exec, producer Producer Scriptwriters DOP Editors

Richard Hyde Jason Munn Richard Hyde Micheál Con Bambacas Jason Mann Richard Hyde

Composer

Marguerite Grey

Focus puller

Cast: Sydney Gay and Lesbian Choir Synopsis: Something to Sing About is a 55 minute portrait of the celebrated Sydney Gay and Lesbian Choir. Filmed over the course of a year the film looks at the diversity of the choir’s achievements and most significantly shows how it has become a symbol of changing attitudes in contemporary Australia.

|

AUSTRALIAN FILM TELEVISION & RADIO SCHOOL

Richard Robinson

1st asst director Audio technician Continuity Prod, assistant Gauge

|

FILM AUSTRALIA

90 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

101

Prod, company Budget

IDirector Producer Co-producer Exec, producer Assoc, producer Scriptwriters

Pre-production Production Post-production

$50,000 January-March 1994 April 1994 May-August 1994

Principal Credits

Mark Shirrefs John Thomson Martin McGrath Paul Wyhowski Pippa Anderson

21/10/94 ...

Directors

] I

Exec, producer

Judith John-Story Mark De Friest Jonathan M. Shift

Line producer DOP Sound recordist

Gina Black Ron Hagen John Wilkinson

Editors

Philip Watts Andrew Scott Tracy Watt

Composers

Garry MacDonald Laurie Stone

Story editor Script editor

Peter Hepworth Michael Joshua Jo Rippon

Casting director Script typists

Trish Hepworth Eleanor Mason

Production Crew Asst producer

Tara Ferrier

Exec, producer asst Prod, co-ordinator Prod, secretary Unit manager

Amanda Trotter Jo Warren Trish Mclnally Brendan “Moose” Boyd

Prod, accountant Tutor

Kay Ben M’Rad Maree Gray Troy Suhr

Drivers

Garry Brennan Karen Jones Rhonda Smith

Location manager Location chaperones

Planning and Development Casting

Val Green Liz Mullinar

Production Crew Prod, managers Prod, coordinator Unit manager Assis unit manager

Focus puller Clapper-loader Key grip Gaffer Best boy

Camera Crew Glenda Carpenter Janusz B. Czech Julie Sims Pawel Barenski Joanna Zalewska Louise McCallum Sandie Morris Witold Nitkiewicz Mieczyslaw Anweiler Eugeniusz Kowalewicz Grzegorz Bieler

Focus puller Underwater DOPs

Asst grip Gaffer Genny operator

Piotr Kryska Mieczyslaw Rychta

2nd asst director 3rd asst director

Bob Donaldson Chris Webb

2nd asst director 3rd asst director Script asst

Ewa Andrzejewska

Asst art director

Agata Domagala Wieslawa Goscik Nicola Moors Miroslawa Wojtczak Ludmila Krawczyk Angus Tattle Jeremi Brodnicki Geoff Howe

Post-Production Post-prod supervisor

Darren Fox Ian Kenny Amie Custo Rachel Evans Nick Fenby

Continuity

1st asst directors

Sue Brown Anna Louise Sortini

Ray Phillips Brett McDowell John Tate

On-set Crew

Asst electrics Generator operator

Producer

Ross Isaacs Gary Bottomley

Richard Rees-Jones Andrew Moore

Best boy

1st asst directors

Continuity Make-up Make-up asst

Ron Hagen

Underwater focus puller Boom operator Key grip

Dariusz Lawniczak Pawel Chiczewski

On-set Crew

Gary Bottomley Francesca Bosch

Camera asst

Electician

Art directors

Gerald Thompson Tod Smart

Nick McCallum Julie Middleton

Costume designer

Anna Louise Sortini

DOP Sound recordist

Noel Price Noel Price Polish Television Ron Saunders Dennis Kiely

Prod, designer

Director Scriptwriter

Film Australia

DOP Sound recordist

Camera Crew

Open Window Productions

6/6/94 ...

1/8/94 ...

Principal Credits

UN PADRE TRADIZIONALE See previous issue for details on: ANATOMY OF A UNION BEYOND THE DREAMTIME CONVICTIONS ECHIDNA - THE SURVIVOR GOING TRIBAL - DROPPING OUT IN THE 90S A HOPE IN HELL THE INDIAN CONNECTION NOT WHAT A NICE JEWISH GIRL WOULD DO (Working title WOMAN

Beyond Distribution $3.5 million

Post-production

1

SPELLBINDER IProd, company

Richard Hyde Linton Vivian

Synopsis: A postie is suddenly exposed to the problems of fame.

Westbridge Productions

Planning and Development

Prod, assistant Prod, accountant

Hi-8 Post production Network 8 Cast: Michael Allen (Robert), Kate Kendal (Mrs Morgan)

OCEAN GIRL 2 (mini-series) Prod, company Dist. company

Prod, designer

Leigh Sutton Matthew Long

Vicki Schwartz Kathie Gleeson

TELEVISION PRE-PRODUCTION

Principal Credits

See issue 99 for details on: THE STRANGER

Editor Jason Munn Peter Thurmer (MAPS)

S ee previous issue for d etails on: BOOKLAUNCH FUNDS BOOST - NEWS/ARCHIVAL

Budget Pre-production Production

See previous issue for details on: ARMOUR IN LIVING MEMORY LESSONS IN THE LANGUAGE OF LOVE ROSIE’S SECRET

Atlab QLD Videolab

Shooting stock

Script editor

Australia Council, NSW FTO ABC/FFC

Italian father and those of contemporary Australian society.

Post-Production

Martin Daley

Government Agency Investment

DFL Super 16

between two opposing realities, those of her

Sophie Stawaruck Leesa Bruback Sean Young

Other Credits

Director

NSW FILM & TELEVISION OFFICE Media Resource Centre

SAFC SAFC Cast: Marcella Russon (Sylvanna), Robert Cusenza (Dario), Josephine Eberhard (Carmel) Synopsis: A young woman, Sylvanna is torn

Simon Gray Phillip Laverty Arriflex BL

Shani Hoeght Leesa Bruback

Synopsis: [No details supplied.]

Caroline Farmer

On-set Crew Continuity Boom operator Make-up Still photography

Zwierz (Gryvon).

Development Production

Ivan Sen

Inti, distributor

RPTA PRIMETIME Synopsis: A two-hour documentary special which tells the tales of Australia’s earliest known ship­ wrecks. Using dramatic re-enactments the pro­

Erlan Buchan (Jal), Julia Biczysko (Aria), Stanislaw Brejdygant (Sum monerToren), Rafal

Government Agency Investment

Paul Barrett Cameron Rogers

1st asst director Ed Punchard Julia Redwood Niobe Syme

Gail Kovatseff

Gauge

Camera Crew

Scriptwriter DOP

Researchers

Grabarczyk (Bron), Slawa Michalewska (Maran),

Laboratory

Production Crew

Julia Redwood Peter Du Cane

Other Credits

Anne Smallwood Ryan Renshaw

Marissa Cooke Phillip Monsour

Exec, producer

Glenn Martin Hugh Kittson

Editing facilities

Nicholas Shreiber

Composer

Lisa Halbish Lesna Thomas

Mel Ortuso

Post Production

Leigh McGrath Phillip Monsour

Art Director

Marketing consultant Publicity

Cast: Heather Mitchell (Ashka), Zbych Trofimiuk

Elaine Jesser Isabella Toffoli

Asst art director

Executive Producer

Marketing

Art Department

Ryan Renshaw Ryan Renshaw

Scriptwriter DOP

Les Fiddess

John Martin

Robert Hardman

Still photography

Principal Credits Director Producer

Sam Petty

Sound editor

(Paul), Gosia Malgorzata (Riana), Andrzej

Make-up

15/8/94-28/8/94 28/8/94 - 14/10/94

Post-production

Camera operator Camera assistant Grip

Sound recordist Editor

Queensland College of Art 15/7/94 - 4/8/94

Pre-production Production

Casting

Director

Robertto Karas

1st asst director Continuity Boom operator

Urban Guerilla Productions,

Sound recordist Editor

SHIPWRECK COAST

■

John Haratzis

On-set Crew

Government Agency Investment Production

Art director

Assistant editor

Paul Kiely Still photography Steve Brennan (Port Douqlas) Bill Bachman (Melbourne)

Art Department Art directors Props buyers

Adele Flere (Port Douglas) Brian Alexander (Melb) Adele Flere (Port Dougals) Brian Alexander (Melb)

Set decorator Location dresser Standby props Post-prod, supervisor

Jill Eden Shane Aumont Chris James Philip Watts

Other Credits Matthew Tucker

Asst editor

Karen Johnson

Construction supervisor

Pat Carr

Wardrobe designer

Alban Farrawell

Freight co-ordinator

Show Freight

Exec, producer

Mikael Borglund

Cast: Andy Anderson (Repo), Liddy Clark (Jean),

Tony Cavanaugh

Shane Connor (Giraffe), Deborra-Lee Furness

Liddy Van Gyen

Everett De Roche

(Dolores), Aaron Jeffery (Banjo), Tayler Kane

Trish Keating

Deborah Cox

(Grievous), Georgie Parker (Morgan), Peter

Camera Crew

Scriptwriters

Standby wardrobe Make-up

Rita Crouch Maggie Kolev

Clapper-loader

Hairdresser

Maggie Kolev

2nd unit DOP

Brent Crockett

DOP

NGS

2nd unit focus

Angelo Sartori

Camera type

ARRI 16 SR II Scott Brokate Alistair Reilly

Sound recordist Editors

Safety supervisor

Focus puller

Stunts coordinator Unit nurse

NGS Susan Burke

Asst make-up/hair Neri double/diver

Doug Glanville Zelie Thompson

Asst grip

Kent Clifton-Bligh

Dive master Whale robotics

Chris Chitty, Robotechnology

Animal wrangler Special fx Catering

Karina Eagle Peter Stubbs Portafino’s (Port Douglas)

Post-Production

Key grip Gaffer

AAV

Paul Clark Stuart Armstrong

Prod, designer

Best boy

Costume designer Composer

Generator operator

Chris Shanahan

Planning and Development

On-set Crew

Casting

1st asst directors

Brendan Campbell

2nd asst director

Chris Odgers Robbie Visser Carmel Torcasio

Boom operator

Jenny Sutcliffe

Phelps (Nick), Max Phipps (Dinosaur), Wayne Pygram (Spit).

Synopsis: The story of a platoon of firefighters.

David Hugget Peta Lawson

Nick Payne Anthony Tulloch

Continuity

Post-production Sound post-prod.

Laboratory

Steve Arnold

Casting consultants Extras casting

Jean Turnbull

HALIFAX F.P. (tele-featu re) Simpson Le Mesurier Films

Roger Mason

Prod, company Dist. company

Maizels and Associates

Budget Pre-production

$7,800,000 May 1994...

Production

July 1994...

Susie Maizels Peta Einberg Martha Linsten

Beyond International

Principal Credits Directors

Paul Moloney

Production Crew Prod, manager

Mike Smith Barbara Gibbs

Steve Jodrell Shirley Barrett

Make-up Make-up asst

Brad Smith Andrea Cadzow

Prod, co-ordinator Producers's asst

Liza McLean

Brendan Maher

Insurer

Soundfirm Cinevex Richard Oliver

Hairdresser

Prod, secretaries

Film Finances

Asst hairdresser

Heather Muirhead Mel Coggins

Michael Carson

Completion guarantor

Brad Smith Andrea Cadzow

Government Agency Investment

Special fx

Development

Stunts co-ordinator Stunts

Film Victoria Film Queensland

Production

FFC Film Victoria Film Queensland

Marketing

Safety officer Catering

Zev Eleftheiou New Generation Stunts Tom Coltraine Sweet Seduction

Art Department Michael Rumpf Hugh Bateup Karen Salter

Art dept co-ord.

Set dressers

Simon McCutcheon

Bates), Jacalyn Prince (Vanessa Lane), Nicholas

Propsperson

Viv Wilson Susie Thompson

Bell (Dr. Hellegren), Joel De Carteret (Jake “ Froggy” Reilly), C assandra Magrath (Zoe Kondelos).

Standby props Armourer

Synopsis: Neri, the mysterious girl from the sea, returns to search for the secret of her past. Aided

Wardrobe

by the kids from Orca, she uncovers the incred­

Wardrobe supervisor

ible truth, and starts the quest for the sister she never knew existed.

Standby wardrobe

Pinder (Winston Seth), Kerry Armstrong (Dianne Props buyer

Rolland Pike Stuart Redding John Fox

Action vehicle co-ord.

Construction Dept

Post-prod, supervisor Editing asst

Crawford Australia

Dist. companies Pre-production Production

Modicum 5/4/94 - 27/5/94 1 4 /1 1 /9 4 -2 /9 5 Donald Crombie Michael Pattinson

Producer

Peter McNee Crawford Australia

Michael Carden Andrew Jobson Foley

Tracey Grimshaw John Simpson

Exec, producers

Jan Mamell Bruce Gordon

Scriptwriters

John Kearney Jan Sardi

Music editor Mixed at

Chris Pettifer Crawfords Australia Digital Arts Film & Television

Time lapse Titles

David Birrell Jon Holmes Trout Communications

Laboratory Lab liaison

DFL Pamela Hammond

Everett DeRoche Vine Moran

Telecine grader

Ian McFadyen Patrick Edgeworth

Shooting stock

Unit assistants

Prod, accountant Insurer Completion guarantor

Charlie Ellis 16mm

Gauge

Kodak 7293, 7298

Video transfers by

AAV

Patricia Blunt

Exec, producer

Stuart Lynch Marg Ashton

Scriptwriters

Brad Pimm

Mac Gudgeon Keith Aberdein

Kevin Plummer Steeves Lumley Antonia Barnard

Sound recordist Editor

Freight co-ordinator

Janine Ellis

Prod, designer

Camera Crew Focus puller Clapper-loader

Mike Kelly Jeffrey Fleck Philip Cross

2nd unit DOP 2nd unit camera asst Key grip Asst grip

John Wareham Gary Shearsmith John Dolan

Gaffer Best boy 3rd Asst Electrics

Graham Rutherford Steve Gordon Scott Allan

On-set Crew 1st asst directors

Peter Fitzgerald

2nd asst director

Toby Pease Darren Mallett Julie Burton

3rd asst director Continuity Boom operator

Tony de Pasquale Joanne McLennon Chris Goldsmith Lynne O’Brien

Make-up Make-up asst Special fx supervisor Special fx coord Special fx foreman Special fx labourer Stunts co-ordinator Safety officer Still photography

Kym Sainsbury Maree McDonald

Don Vaughn

Geoff Metcalf Philip Drake Jennifer Des Champs

Set dressers

Michael Kissane Glenn W. Johnson

Editors

(Jo Moody), John Bach (Rainer Bass), Brian

Props buyer

Johanna Park

Prod, designer

Denise Haratzis Paddy Reardon

Standby props

Costume designer Composer

Vriends (Michael), Marcus Eyre (Blocker), Nell Feeney (Rose), Amanda Jane Bowden (Tina).

Bruce Rowland

Synopsis: Experienced, likeable, all-too-human, a family man with a broken marriage, Superin­

John Reeves John Reeves

tendent Dave Griffin spearheads the feds’ battle

Planning and Development Story editor Script editors

Graeme Farmer Casting Extras casting' AFC attachment

Jan Pontifex Nikki Longstaff

Porduceris asst Location managers

Standby wardrobe Wardrobe asst Construct, manager

Walter Speri

policewoman. Jo and Dave were lovers once.

Leading hand

Now they are both striving to put the job first.

Carpenters

Mike Ashton Nigel Boyle

Prod, company

Jo Friesen Betty Parthimos Greg Ellis Neil McCart

Dist. company Production

Shane Warren

Prod, assistant

Carol Matthews

Principal Credits

Prod, runner Prod, accountant

Emma Jamvold Ron Sinni

Directors

Accounts asst

Sandra Djuma

Producers

Insurer Completion guarantor

Jardine Tolley F.A.C.B. Showfilm

Post-production

Line producer

Ian Cook

Extra Dimensions in

Rodney Russel

association with Liberty Films

Gene Tropeano Peter Bloomfield

Beyond Distribution Pty Ltd 15/8/94-19/12/94 19/12/94 - 6/2/95 Peter Fisk

Set finisher Scenic artist Brushhands

Asst editor

Michael Caulfield Simone North

Mixed at Laboratory

Tony Cavanaugh

Lab liaison

Barbara Gibbs

Shooting stock

Sandi Revelins

Producer’s asst

Christine Vella Kerri Ryan Janice Duncan

Prod, secretary Location managers

John Brousek Prod, accountant Accounts asst Insurer Completion guarantor Legal services Travel co-ord.

Margot Brock Andrew Walker Steeves Lumley Film Finances Marshalls & Dent Performance Travel

Camera Crew Dick Tummel Adam Williams

On-set Crew 1st asst directors

Stuart Wood

2nd asst director

Monica Pearce Christian Robinson

3rd asst director Continuity

lain Pirret Kirsten Veysey

Make-up

Viv Mepham

Unit publicist

Robyn Smith, GTV Channel Nine

Art Department Art director

Bernadette Wynack

Propsperson

Marita Musset

Wardrobe Standby wardrobe Wardrobe asst

Martine Simmonds Gabby Dunn Tracey Richardson

Post-Production Sound post-prod, by Laboratory

Complete Post Labsonics Cinevex

Government Agency Investment Production

FFC

Cast: Rebecca Gibney (Jane Halifax).

Synopsis: Jane Halifax is a forensic psychiatrist whose specialty is the criminal mind.

Adam Smigielski Billy Malcolm Paul Hilton Peta Black

Post-Production

Megan Simpson

Prod, co-ordinator

Post-production by

Paul Carter

FIRE (mini-series)

Consultants

Production Crew

Wardrobe supervisor Jean Turnbull Andrea Hood Gwendolyn Stukely

Construction Dept

Unit manager

Travel co-ordinator

Wardrobe

Julie Goodall Chris Page

John Anderson

against organized crime. Dave’s regular partner is Detective Sergeant Jo Moody, a lawyer turned

Production Crew Prod, supervisor Prod, co-ordinator

Daryl Porter

Wardrobe supervisor

Casting consultants

Liz Mullinar Kelly O’Shea Liz Mullinar Casting

Darryl Pearson

Production FFC Cast: Robert T aylor (Dave Griffin), Angie Milliken

Marion Boyce

Julie Turner Tom Hegarty

Best boy Electrician

Art Department Art dept co-ord.

Art dept runner

Researcher Script editor Casting

John Harris John Hudson Chris Anderson

Jason Boland Annie Harris, Gracie’s Catering

Art director

Planning and Development

Angelo Sartore

John McKerrow Bill Murphy

Government Agency Investment

Tel Stolfo Sandi Cichello

Focus puller Gaffer

Sound recordist

Roger Dowling

Anne Carter

Steve Gourtney Debbie Jackson

David Foreman

Crawford Productions

Howard Griffiths Craig Barden Andrew Ramage

Costume designer

DOPs

Off-line facilities

DOP

Peta Ross

Catering Runners’ asst

Ros Tatarka Roger Simpson Peter Kinloch

Katharina Keil

Travel co-ordinator

David Birrell Barry Lanfranch i Bruce Climas Stephen Vaughan

30/5/94 - 11/11/94

Principal Credits Directors

Dialogue effects Sound editors

Eaton Films

Post-production

Caaren Hulme

Post-Production

THE FEDS (tele-featu re) Prod, company

Rob McLeod

Rachel Nott

Construct, manager Studios

TELEVISION PRODUCTION

Roger Le Mesurier Roger Simpson

Location manager Unit manager

Prod, runner

Beyond Distribution

Cast: Marzena Godecki (Neri), David Hoflin (Jason Bates), Jeffrey Walker (Brett Bates), Alex

Producers

Film Trix

Art directors

Inti, distributor

Kerry Callander

Suzanne Flannery AAV

TELEVISION POST-PRODUCTION See previous issue for details on: JANUS (series) LIFT OFF 2

Atlab Gary Keir Kodak

CINEMA

PAPERS

101 . 9 1

Ten

C r i t i c s ’ Best

and

Wor st

A P A N EL OF TEN FILM REVIEW ERS HAS RATED A S ELEC TIO N O F TH E LATEST R ELEA S ES ON A SCALE O F 0 TO 10 , TH E LATTER B EIN G TH E OPTIM U M RATING (A DASH M EANS NOT S EEN ). TH E CRITICS A R E: B ILL C O LLIN S (NETW ORK 10 ; DAILY MIRROR, S Y D N EY ); S A N D R A H A LL (THE BULLETIN PA U L HARRIS (“ EG ” , THE AGE; 3RRR); IVAN HUTCHINSON (SEVEN NETW ORK; HERALD-SUfi); STAN JA M ES (THE ADELAIDE ADVERTISER); N EIL

IVAN HUTCHINSON

TOM RYAN

DAVID STRATTON

EVAN WILLIAMS

5

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SPIDER & ROSE Bill Bennett

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THE SUM OF US

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Law rence K asdan

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C la u d e M ille r

THE ADVENTURES OF P R IC IL L IA , QUEEN OF THE D E S E R T AUTUMN MOON

C la ra L aw

BAD BOY B U B B Y BLOWN AWAY

R o lf de H eer

S tep h en H o p k in s

CLEAR AND P R E S E N T DAN GE R THE CLIENT THE CRO W FRA U D S

P h il N o y c e

Jo e l S c h u lm a c h e r A lex P roy as

S te p h a n E llio tt

H A M M E R S OV ER THE ANVIL K ALIFO R NIA

A nn Turner

D o m in ic Sen a

THE LION KING LITTLE B UD DA

R o g e r A lle rs &

R o b M in k o ff

B e rn a rd o B e rto lu cci

MANHATTAN M U R D E R M Y ST E R Y MURIEL’S W E D D IN G

W o o d y A lle n

P. J . H o g a n

LES NU ITS FAUVES ( S a v a g e N i g h t s ) THE S E C R E T GARDEN

SPEED

Cy ril collard

A g n ie sz k a H o lla n d

Ja n D e B on t

K e v i n D o w l i n g &: G e o f f B u r t o n

32 SHORT FILMS ABOUT GLENN GOULD TRAPS

S tep h an E llio tt

F ra n co is G ira rd

P a u lin e C h a n

TROIS COLOURS: BLANC

K rz y sz to f K ie s lo w sk i

WHAT’S EATING GILBERT GRAPE? WITTGENSTEIN WYATT EARP

92 - C I N E M A

PAPERS

1 01

L asse H a llstro m

6

NEIL JILLETT

AVERAGE

PAUL HARRIS

-

L’ACCO MPAGN ATRICE

SCOTT MURRAY

SANDRA HALL

8

FILM TITLE D i r e c t o r

STAN JAMES

BILL COLLINS

JILLE T T ( THE AGE); SCOTT M URRAY; TOM RYAN (THE SUNDAY AGÉ); DAVID STRATTON (VARIETY; SBS); A N D EVAN W ILLIAM S (THE AUSTRALIA^.

lllfllllfe

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For feature and documentary film projects that require the inclusion of video tape sequences D.E.N. Kine provides the costeffective, way of transferring material.

D.E.N.'s near real time technology makes it ideal for long format material such as finished program,

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