The Big Issue Australia #655 – Bon Jovi by The Big Issue Australia

xx. Ed.

655 18 FEB 2022

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Contents

EDITION

655

18 The Gift of Love Author Melina Marchetta writes of the bond she shares with her daughter, and tells their story of the journey to adoption.

20 THE BIG PICTURE

On Frozen Pond We take a peek at the strange world of curling – the only sport that provides a gap to nip whisky while wearing a tam o’shanter.

30 MUSIC

12.

Destination: Beach House

“I’m Gonna Be in a Rock Band” by Jane Graham

In his Letter to My Younger Self, Jon Bon Jovi remembers those who let him believe in his dreams – his hard-working parents, and the guys who played in bands in bars in New Jersey’s Asbury Park. Plus we visit Jon Bon Jovi’s Soul Kitchen, which provides food, shelter and support to people experiencing homelessness. cover and contents photos by Clay McBride

Ed’s Letter & Your Say Meet Your Vendor Streetsheet Hearsay & 20 Questions My Word Ricky

40 TASTES LIKE HOME

Whole Snapper

THE REGULARS

04 05 06 08 11 24

Lockdown has provided the inspiration for indie veterans Beach House to make their most expansive album yet.

25 34 35 36 37 39

Fiona 43 Puzzles Film Reviews 45 Crossword Small Screen Reviews 46 Click Music Reviews Book Reviews Public Service Announcement

Ross Dobson’s whole snapper with ginger and spring onions transports him back to his days growing up in Western Sydney.

Ed’s Letter

by Amy Hetherington Editor @amyhetherington

Jon Bon Jovial

LETTER OF THE FORTNIGHT

ack in 2019, in Ed#579, we published The Happiness Project. We asked Big Issue vendors around the country to take photos of things that made them happy: moments, places, things, pets, people… They are images that still live in my mind. Photos of Sydney Harbour in all its glory, a pink-iced doughnut, a cactus-filled backyard, a baby granddaughter, and a hand-drawn portrait of Jon Bon Jovi. For Caroline, in Perth, JBJ is her happy place. “It’s the hair, the music, the leather jacket,” she wrote at the time. It was clear I needed her expertise for this edition, as we bring you Jon Bon Jovi’s Letter to My Younger Self. “You’ve made my day!” she told me, elatedly, over the phone. “I’m looking forward to having Jon on the cover. I hope it sells well for me – I need the sales. For me, it’s been tough. It’s been quiet.” Bon Jovi won Caroline’s heart back in 1986 with the release of their hit-fuelled

album Slippery When Wet. Today, a pencil sketch of Jon – a birthday gift from a good friend – still holds pride of place on her dining room wall. “I like the music – it makes me feel happy and helps me through hard times,” she says. “I listen to it at night when I go to bed. I have it playing all night, I just put it on shuffle. My favourite songs are ‘No Apologies’ and ‘Story of Love’.” She even got to meet her shaggy‑haired idols when they played the Perth Entertainment Centre in 1989. “They did an album signing at a record shop, and I was standing there talking to Jon. He had his sunglasses on. I don’t even remember what I said, but I just got the most amazing ear‑to‑ear smile that I’ve ever seen on any man,” she reveals. “I love his compassion, his empathy and his thoughtfulness towards people who are less well off than him, people who are homeless and veterans. He has a big heart.”

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The Big Issue Story The Big Issue is an independent, not-for-profit magazine sold on the streets around Australia. It was created as a social enterprise 25 years ago to provide both a voice and a work opportunity for people experiencing homelessness and disadvantage. Your purchase of this magazine has directly benefited the person who sold it to you. Big Issue vendors buy each copy for $4.50 and sell it to you for $9, keeping the profits. But The Big Issue is more than a magazine.

Your Say

Being an avid foodie and loving recipes, I laughed till I cried when I read Nat’s What I Reckon’s recipe and comments in Ed#652. He certainly takes the piss out of the serious dudes. I would never make one of these cheesecakes but was tempted solely just by how it was written. Keep up the great work Big Issue!! MICHELLE DAVIS SOUTH BRISBANE I QLD

After this morning’s session at the dentist, I walked to nearby Jamison Centre, in Canberra. I was pleased to see the comforting sight of a Big Issue fluoro vest. Murray sold me Ed#641 and signed page 19. His sporting Paralympian profile was a bonus, a brush with fame. Thanks, Murray, for honouring me with your moniker. Can always rely on The Big Issue to lift your spirits. CHRISTOPHER RYAN WATSON I ACT

Just read Fiona Scott-Norman’s ‘Happy New Weird’ in Ed#652 and thoroughly enjoyed it. Funny and informative – great combo!!! Keep up the good work, Fiona! LYN COMAR MACLEOD I VIC

• Our Women’s Subscription Enterprise provides employment and training for women through the sale of magazine subscriptions as well as social procurement work. • The Community Street Soccer Program promotes social inclusion and good health at weekly soccer games at 23 locations around the country. • The Vendor Support Fund will offset the cost price of products for vendors, allowing them to earn a larger margin on their own street sales. • The Big Issue Education workshops provide school, tertiary and corporate groups with insights into homelessness and disadvantage, and provide work opportunities for people experiencing marginalisation. CHECK OUT ALL THE DETAILS AT THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Michelle wins a copy of Ross Dobson’s new cookbook Firepit Barbecue. You can check out his recipe for Whole Snapper With Ginger and Spring Onions on page 40. We’d also love to hear your feedback and suggestions: SUBMISSIONS@BIGISSUE.ORG.AU

YOUR SAY SUBMISSIONS MAY BE EDITED FOR CLARITY AND SPACE.

Meet Your Vendor

interview by Anastasia Safioleas photo by Michael Quelch

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18 FEB 2022

SELLS THE BIG ISSUE AT CORNER PITT AND MARKET STREETS, SYDNEY

Bevan

I’m an Indigenous man. My mum’s Wiradjuri from Brungle Mission. I hate saying this, but I was born in Queensland. Why do I hate saying it? Because I’m not a cane toad! I’m a footy freak, a South Sydney fan! I was born in Redcliffe and they’ve got a footy team joining the NRL – the Redcliffe Dolphins. But I’ll never change teams. No way. I grew up in Sydney. I was really smart at school, but I went to a lot of schools and I got kicked out of a lot of schools. Everything was too easy and then I got bored and started mucking around and getting other people in trouble. I went from Year 5 to Year 7 – I skipped Year 6 – and my sister was pissed off because she was 16 months older than me and I started high school the same year as her. I didn’t finish high school, but I’ve done a lot of study. I want to do a diploma in youth service work next. I became a ward of the state when I was 12 or 13. When they let me out I became transient and then old enough to go to prison. I was in and out of prison and when I wasn’t in prison I was on the street. I was on the housing list for 23 years before I finally got my place in 2018. Rainbow Lodge are a group who help Aboriginal men and they helped me get my house and deck it out. I haven’t used drugs in nearly three years; that’s a big thing for me. It makes me feel so happy. I used to shave and brush my teeth in the shower. And the last time I got out of jail, I said to myself Why are you always brushing your teeth and shaving in the shower? And I realised it’s because when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t like that person – I didn’t want to look at that person – so I decided to change and become the person I like. I’m about to start mediation. I was molested. All I care about is being able to let go of all that bullshit because all that bullshit was why I was using drugs. How I haven’t died by now is beyond me. I should have been dead 50 times. I’m lucky, I’m here. So hopefully everything works out fine for us. This is probably my fifth time selling The Big Issue. I just love doing it. I love seeing people smile, even if I don’t get money – I don’t care. To see someone walk past grumpy and I make them smile, that works for me – I’m a pretty laid-back character like that. I always catch the ferry home and sit on the front deck. I love when the water hits me in the face and I know I’ve had a good day. Even if I’ve only had a $25 day, it’s the same feeling. Then when I get home I think, You know what, I haven’t sat at home all day waiting around to die like these people think I’m going to do. I’m doing everything I can – training, swimming, riding my bike… I’ve just got to get off the cigarettes. They’re going to kill me, and I don’t want to die.

Streetsheet

Stories, poems and pictures by Big Issue vendors and friends

Time Flies VENDOR SPOTLIGHT

GEORGE

YEEHAW! IT’S GEORGE

The Man in Black

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have always liked to dress well and I like the cowboy appearance. I used to watch cowboy movies when I was young and I liked them – I watched my first movie with my father when I was three years old, it was called Posse from Hell starring Audie Murphy. As I got older, in my fifties, sixties and seventies, I fell in love with them – it’s like a hobby for me to watch westerns. I love them so much I watch them over and over and over. I will watch them 50 times a month and then do the same the next month! I like the Clint Eastwood movies – A Fistful of Dollars and For a Few Dollars More. My all-time favourite cowboy movie is Dawn at Socorro starring Rory Calhoun, my favourite actor. He has a good cowboy name and he is also a good-looking man to be in the movies. I also love Jeanette MacDonald – she has a beautiful voice, as she is an opera singer. When I die I want to be buried in my cowboy clothes – dressed in all black. But at the moment I can see myself watching cowboy movies for many years to come! GEORGE STATION ST, FAIRFIELD I MELBOURNE

Last year flew by at the speed of light, and I think that this year will too. Old Man Time is cranking up the engine faster each year. It has been so hot and humid here lately – well, it is summer, I suppose, not my favourite time of the year. I have felt like a lettuce wilting in a garden bed. The COVID masks that people are required to wear have been a wonderful source of entertainment for me. The fashion show is so much fun with all these different masks being paraded. There are all sorts of pretty patterned ones being worn. My favourite is the blue and white one with the butterfly design. I had the pleasure of meeting two retired teachers from my old haunt of Fremantle recently. One of them bought a copy of The Big Issue from me. I told them of the time when I used to walk from 28 Livingstone Street in South Fremantle to the other end of the street where the Church of Christ the King primary school was. Those were the days. KATHY I BUSSELTON

Son Rising I am very proud of my eldest Adam who is going into Year 12 this year and going all the way in high school. Over summer he showed me his school report and I was blown away with how well he has done and all the great comments from his teachers. He is definitely better at school than I was! I hope my younger son follows in his footsteps. KELLEE EUROPEAN RESTAURANT, MURRAY ST I PERTH

Instant Karma It was my last shift before Christmas. I hesitated to work, but as I had an unpleasant encounter with a housemate, I decided to spend some time in my office. West End is an amazing place, and while I don’t sleep there, lots

of people make me feel like it’s home. At some point, I spotted a credit card on the footpath. For a short moment, I thought, woohoo, free money! But then I realised someone is probably deeply troubled about this loss. Also, do I really need more than I have? So, I chose to leave it with the friendly staff at Avid Reader, the most likely place where the card was used, hoping the owner would reclaim it. I enjoyed doing my work instead of thinking about the conflict at the house. While I was talking to one of my dear regular customers, Jan, a young man came along. “Hello Lenny! Thank you so much for finding my card and giving it to Avid. I’m so glad that I got it back, without going

to the trouble of blocking it, and being without it over Christmas.” I was happy to save this man from trouble and hearing his relief. He gave me $50 to buy the magazine, expressing his gratitude. Most of all, I’m happy that I could easily resist doing the wrong thing. Without expecting any reward, I received some instant karma. LENNY AVID READER BOOKSHOP & WEST END MARKETS I BRISBANE

No Place Like Rocky I’ve just been on a holiday to Rockhampton. I caught the Tilt Train; it was fabulous. We got seat service: if you order a meal they deliver to your seat. The speed of the train was fabulous. I saw lots of mountains, trees and cattle. The

train trip cost very little because I’m on the pension. Rockhampton is a typical country town: small, and everything was a short distance from my motel room. EDDIE SHERWOOD, MILTON MARKETS & CENTRAL STATION I BRISBANE

Fremantle Friendly Round about place Emotional in some ways Moments to treasure Adventure around every bend New things open and close Travel around all food areas Love food, love coffee End your day with a smile SARAH W I FREMANTLE

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18 FEB 2022

I woke up early to go and buy the flag today. I went to Quality Flags on South Road and guess what? The lady Julie who works there is vendor Ruth’s sister! I bought a full-sized flag and a little one to show off. I’m going to show it off wherever I go. I’m just proud. I never realised until a few years ago that the flag was privately owned, so to have it free now is so important – the government buying it means it’s free for all of us to use and we don’t ask for much. That’s my flag, my culture. I want to acknowledge the Kaurna who are the traditional owners of the land I am on, but I am actually a Yamatji man from the Murchison region in WA. Most of my family are there. I hope to return there when the borders are open and it’s a bit easier to travel. I also want to go to Alice Springs and live with the people there for a while. I’m an Elder and that’s something I’m really proud of. Anyone can be a senior but not anyone can be an Elder. It’s something that’s really important to me, to go and connect with the land and learn the ways. It means that this knowledge isn’t lost and can be passed down to future generations.

PHOTO BY JAMES BRAUND XXX

Flying the Flag

Hearsay

Andrew Weldon Cartoonist

It was for the church musical. I got the part of Mr Worldly Wiseman. We performed at a couple of shopping centres and I thought I’d made it.

communal [space] where we hang out together… 30 years ago it was chaotic, but now we just have our tea and sit around reading the newspaper.” Red Hot Chili Peppers drummer Chad Smith on the realities of being old rockers. NME I AU

“I am over 50 years old and [have] never seen as many people in a funeral. Rayan is the son of us all.” A mourner at the funeral of fiveyear-old Rayan Oram, who died after falling down a well in Ighran, Morocco, despite large-scale rescue efforts to save him. AL JAZEERA I QA

Oscar winner Cate Blanchett on hitting the big time in Hollywood, via Westfield.

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VOGUE I UK

“I wasn’t sure he was understanding me. Then he said, ‘Well, will I oink?’” Dr Bartley Griffith, from the University of Maryland Medical Centre heart transplant program, on the reaction of a patient when offered a heart from a genetically modified pig.

“I just see the rings and something magical happens.” Dutch speedskater Ireen Wüst on making history by becoming the first athlete to claim individual gold medals at five different Olympics, Winter or Summer.

THE NEW YORK TIMES I US

“This is the biggest predation event on the planet. We haven’t seen things like this since dinosaurs were here, and probably not even then.” Robert Pitman, cetacean ecologist at Oregon State University Marine Mammal Institute, on Australian world-first footage that confirms that a pod of killer whales can take down the world’s largest animal: an adult blue whale.

“I covered this part with my hand and the rest with my body, so it looks like a normal library book. And I ran in and put it on one of the shelves – and then read a book. So I didn’t look suspicious.” Dillon Helbig, eight, on how he slipped his hand-written storybook The Adventures of Dillon Helbig’s Crismis onto the shelves of his local library in Boise, Idaho, only for it to become an in-demand title, with 125 people on the waiting list. NPR I US

JAPAN TODAY I JP

SCIENCE DAILY I US

“We’re not spring chickens anymore. We all have our own little rooms and we have a

“The problem with being so motivated to have such a ripped body when I was young was that I built a rod for my own back… You’ll never see me walking around a beach with my top off. Or on stage. Maybe for a laugh, but it’s unlikely.” 90s popstar Peter Andre on packing away his six-pack in middle age. THE GUARDIAN I UK

“If you’re a six and they’re a 10, it might not be your looks that they’ve been charmed by, it might be your access to classified information.” Senator James Paterson on revelations that international spies are using dating apps to recruit Australians who have access to sensitive government secrets. Swipe left! NINE I AU

“DC is the kind of emo comic. There’s a nihilistic side to it. Even the artwork is really, really different. So, hopefully, there are a lot of sad people in the world.” Actor Robert Pattinson on his new Batman, the emo that Gotham deserves, but perhaps not one it needs right now. GQ I US

20 Questions by Rachael Wallace

01 Which Golden Girls star recently

died at the age of 99? 02 Which Greek god carried the world

on his shoulders? 03 How many muscles do cats have in

each ear: a) 8 b) 16 c) 32 or d) 64? 04 Where was the first documented

case of the Spanish flu recorded, in March 1918? 05 What are the only two words in the

English language that begin and end with the letters UND? 06 What is the official currency of

Guatemala? 07 The first mosque in Australia was

built in 1861 in which state or territory? 08 In cricket, when a wicket is in doubt,

what does DRS stand for? 09 2022 is the year of which animal in

ABC I AU

THE WALL STREET JOURNAL I US

“You might be thinking that the Earth could one day lose its magnetic field as well, but don’t worry, that won’t happen for at least a billion years.” Professor Kei Hirose, from the University of Tokyo, who it seems has discovered the mystery of how Mars lost its magnetic field, which led to the loss of its water and oceans and eventually any possibility of life.

“His motives are still unknown but the administration believes it was some kind of a lapse in sanity.” Curator Anna Reshetkina on the arrest of a “bored” security guard, who doodled two pairs of eyes onto ‘Three Figures’, a $1.4 million painting by Russian avant-garde artist Anna Leporskaya, dating from the 1930s. Police later arrested the man, who “made it clear he did not like the investigation”.

SCIENCE DAILY I US

STUFF I NZ

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the Chinese zodiac? 10 Since last May, the World Health

Organization has been using the Greek alphabet, in order, to name COVID-19 variants. Which two Greek letters did it skip when naming Omicron? 11 Michael J Fox played which Chuck

Berry song in Back to the Future? 12 What did Australians officially start

to use on Valentine’s Day 1966? 13 What sport was Abraham Lincoln

a champion in before he became US president? 14 Which capital city in Australia has

the least annual rainfall? 15 Which Australian athlete won gold

in the women’s moguls at this year’s Winter Olympics? 16 What was the nickname of

Australian Rules player Graham Farmer? 17 True or false? The first Tinder match

in Antarctica occurred in 2014. 18 Who is the Hollywood actor

associated with the six-degrees-ofseparation concept? 19 What is the world’s largest

landlocked country? 20 What is melissophobia the abnormal

fear of?

ANSWERS ON PAGE 43

18 FEB 2022

“I just feel a sense of self confidence and achievement.” Glynn Sherris, 57, who went for a supposed one-kilometre walk in WA’s Cape Le Grand National Park. But it was more like a four-hour round trip, for which he was unprepared, eventually drinking his own urine and burying himself in sand to withstand the overnight cold, just like he’d seen Bear Grylls do on TV. Police, a helicopter and an Australian Maritime Safety Authority jet were eventually called in to save him.

“We only have data from those “See you later insurers that offer alligator, don’t forget a weasel policy.” the paper towel.”” Henning Engelage, Allegra, two, overheard by a spokesperson Beatrice in Geelong, Vic. for Germany’s insurers’ federation, on the rise of weasel-inflicted car damage. Last year, German drivers filed 198,000 claims against weasel auto vandalism, making weasels the fourth most frequent cause for non-collision vehicular claims in the country. EAR2GROUND

My Word

by Kate Mildenhall @katemildenhall

’ve camped at the same place on Bidwell and Gunai Kurnai land – East Gippsland – with my family every summer for more than 30 years. Best friends, first kisses in the dunes, driving lessons, bringing in the new millennium from the top of the lighthouse, a marriage proposal, my first-born turning around the wrong way in my belly weeks before she came out. Is it wrong to worship a place? In her book Beyond Climate Grief, science writer Jonica Newby calls them “heartplaces” – places we fall in love with, in part so we might better protect them. And summer places are especially sacred, as much about all that happens there as the landscape: the friendships, the laughter, that slow summertime. We pay attention more, stay in the moment even before we know that is a thing we are supposed to do. We go at the speed of the tide, of cooking on a campfire, of a three-year-old learning to ride a two-wheeler. I’d already had 30 summers there when it took a fire to make me realise I couldn’t take this time or this heartplace for granted. We had only 15 minutes to evacuate our campsite when the fire roared down the coast towards us in December 2019. We left all our stuff but got everyone out. Weeks later we gasped at the pictures Parks Vic sent us for insurance: the kids’ bikes melted, the axle of our burnt-out camper trailer in a blackened landscape. The bridge into the campsite burned and split in two. The bridge that had always been the portal into summer. Living on the bushy outskirts of Melbourne, I’ve grown up in the shadow of fire, but I’m one of the lucky ones. Towns that are only a stone’s throw from my own still reel from the physical and mental aftermath of Black Saturday 13 years on; fortunately, I’ve not had to bear witness to my home turning to ash. I have not had to shelter my children on a beach under a woollen blanket like my friend did during Black Summer, while trying to work out whether it would be safer in the pounding surf or facing the heat on the sand. My heartplace that burned during those terrible Black Summer fires isn’t where I live. I can’t even claim that I hail from East Gippsland. My connection to it

is fleeting (and problematic) when compared to the connection of Gunai Kurnai, Bidwell and other First Nations people to this place. So where do I put my grief on the scale of loss? This summer, we went back to our beloved, burned place. From the new camping spot we were lucky to find not far away, our group travelled to where fire destroyed the campsite. We drove through luminous green regrowth on black trunks and thrilled at the spots where the tree ferns have sprouted. We cried at the broken bridge and hugged each other hard as we recognised a melted kayak, a charred coffee pot, the skeletons of camper trailers and bikes. We reminded each other through tears, “We got out. We got out.” And slowly, we saw the beauty: vines tangled through the incinerated remains of campsites, fat purple berries of the dianella, wild raspberries glowing pink in the undergrowth. On the beach at the sheltered bay at the end of the track, the sea was as it always has been. The orange lichened rocks, the grey-black driftwood that marks high tide, a pair of hooded plovers skittering along the shore. And the river, the river. The newest of our clan had her first swim in its waters – a baptism. Fire has drastically altered this place. So too have huge tides, gouging out sections of the fragile dunes that have held up the road to the lighthouse for so many years. Even if they can rebuild the bridge, the amenities and reroute the road, the place we knew has gone. Here, for the first time for me, solastalgia – that painful feeling about an environment changing – became visceral. Driving back down the highway at the end of our summer, we joined the throng of campers heading home. We have thong marks, new freckles, muscles sore with bodysurfing, hearts full with where we have been. Maybe our collective love for the places we camp will stand us in good stead for what is to come. Maybe our losses will galvanise us to fight harder to protect them. As I write this still filled with summer bliss – sand between my toes, shush of the waves in my ears and piles of unpacking littering the house – I wonder how to hold the lingering grief for the land. Grief is the price we pay for loving, and I found somewhere to put my grief this summer, diving under a breaking wave and nestling it into the river sand.

Kate Mildenhall is the author of Skylarking and The Mother Fault, and co-host of The First Time podcast.

Kate Mildenhall returns to a special summer place and finds it – and herself – forever changed.

18 FEB 2022

Heart Burn

PHOTOS BY CLAY MCBRIDE, GETTY

Letter to My Younger Self

I’M GONNA BE IN A ROCK BAND” Rock god Jon Bon Jovi says it’s the hard times that have made him appreciate success – and his parents who made it all possible. by Jane Graham The Big Issue UK @janeannie

18 FEB 2022

had single-minded focus when I was 16. By the time I was 17 I had my first band [Atlantic City Expressway] in New Jersey and I was determined I’d be making records and singing in a band and making my living doing that. When I was 16, and in the place where I lived, there was a lot of optimism. It was 1978 then, and 1980 when I graduated from high school. New Jersey was a wonderful, hard‑working blue-collar place to grow up in. Both of my parents worked five or six days a week – there was never a lack of food or clothing or school, we were given the great gifts of that comfort. I was born during the John Kennedy administration. So my parents married under that kind of hope and aspiration and they instilled it in their kids. It was brimming with optimism and belief in the opportunity that you could, in fact, achieve your dreams.

There was no Plan B for me, ever. I can remember walking the two-mile walk to school with the guy who became my first band’s bass player. And I would just conspire as to how I was going to get a band together, how I was going to play in bars and eventually make it. Which to me at that time just meant keep on playing in a bar – the measurements of success change throughout the course of your life. My three best friends, including that bass player, they joined the navy. When I got the call from the recruiting office my answer was, does the uniform come in different colours? Can I take the pants in around the ankle? I’m not sure about that haircut. My buddies joined the service because they thought, okay, this is the best way out for me. But I said, nah, this is what I’m going to do. I’m gonna be in a rock band. We would have magazines in the States. Circus magazine, Creem magazine. And inside you had these posters of the biggest bands in the world you would tear out and hang on your wall – Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith and Alice Cooper. But on top of that, and maybe more important, 25 miles away from where I grew up was Asbury Park. And there were guys there singing songs from whence I came. Playing their own music. And although they were not in those magazines, and they weren’t big by definition, it was them who made the impossible possible. Although all those guys were much older than I was, they were singing songs about where I was from,

There were times it was deeply dark, and deeply hurtful… But it’s a part of life. You come through it.

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“IT’S GONNA HAVE UPS AND DOWNS BUT KEEP THE FAITH,” SAYS JBJ

and performing in places where I could see them and meet them. And that was a big part of the inspiration for me, it made my dream tangible. I think regarding my parents, I am a combination of both the good, the bad and the indifferent. As I think we all are, but it takes a while for you to be able to see that. And it takes a longer while before you can say that. It’s really helped to shape who I am now as a man and as a father. Because you have your two halves, and you meet your wife or your significant other and they bring their two halves so you’re four quarters and all of those inspire your kids. What I got from my parents was the ability to make the dream reality. They always instilled that confidence in their kids which, in retrospect, I realise was so incredibly valuable. Because even if you truly weren’t any good at your craft, if you believed you were, you could work on it. As I got older I realised that was a great gift that I got from my folks. They truly believed in the John Kennedy mantra of going to the moon. “Yeah, of course you can go to the moon. Just go Johnny.” And there I went. The first talent show my parents came to see me play I was so terrible they wanted to crawl under their seats with embarrassment. But they saw my passion and my commitment. So when I was just 17 they let me play in bars till closing time and they always said, well, at least we knew where you were. They were always supportive of me, which in retrospect, was incredible. Because I could get home at one or two in the morning, and have to still be in school by eight o’clock. They just said, show up on time for school, you know that is your responsibility, but pursue your dream. They never once said you can’t go to the bar. They knew I wasn’t going there to fuck around. I was going there to do the job. And I didn’t have the responsibility of a young family or paying the rent or anything like that. So all those things worked out. Though of course, it wasn’t like I was 30 and still going to the bar. By the time I was 20 I had written ‘Runaway’ and it was on the radio and by the time I was 21 I had a record deal. So there wasn’t the need for my parents to have a sit down with their 35-year-old son who was still playing in a bar in Santa Barbara saying “I’m gonna make it”. I think the beautiful thing about being naive and being a kid is thinking that you know a lot, even if you don’t. There’s a certain grace in naivety. And it’s beautiful, because it allows you to constantly put

TOP: WITH THE BAND, IN 1985 MIDDLE: WITH MUM AND DAD BONGIOVI BOTTOM: WITH WIFE DOROTHEA AND THE KIDS AT THE ROCK’N’ROLL HALL OF FAME INDUCTION CEREMONY, IN 2018

18 FEB 2022

I got through it. And in essence, I have to admit, it was worth it. I wish it was all pretty, but maybe if it was all pretty I wouldn’t have gotten this wisdom or this deep appreciation for who and what I am today. I had closure with everyone important in my life who’s gone now. I was very lucky in that sense. But I wish I could have time, as a man, with my grandmother and my grandfather, who died when I was 13. And a guy called Jerry Edelstein who was technically called my attorney but was way, way deeper than that. He’s the godfather of my daughter and was my closest confidant in the world. I miss him terribly every day. If I could go back and re-live any moment in my life the first thing that comes to mind is the birth of my kids. Because that was such a miracle. The birth of a human that you’ve helped create – that’s probably the biggest, most unbelievable thing that I could ever want. To touch the hand of God, that’s as close as you ever come to that. I remember coming home with Stephanie, our first, and thinking I have a daughter? I never even had a sister. That was daunting. We were in uncharted territory to say the least. Everyone comes to the hospital to visit and they bring flowers and balloons, and they drop your bag off and the mommies lay down in the bed with the baby, and then you’re like, oh my God, now what? And driving the first baby home you’re scared stiff, you’re like, everybody get away from this car! Just move away. And then we came home and it was like, where’s the manual? How do we work this thing? There’s just the two of us alone in the room going, holy shit. We were so grateful that she was healthy but we were scared shitless. Of course by the time you get to the fourth baby, you’re dragging it into the parking lot by its arm, saying, “Whatever. Strap yourself in, you’ll be fine.” The greatest joy that I get, when I’m not in the midst of being Jon Bon Jovi on some stage, is when we spend a day at one of the Soul Kitchens [providing affordable meals, which Bon Jovi founded]. Because you leave there and you know that you’ve really truly done good. You leave feeling a sense of accomplishment on the day. And it’s really, really satisfying. It’s just glorious.

PHOTOS BY CLAY MCBRIDE, GETTY. FIRST PUBLISHED IN THE BIG ISSUE UK , ED#1437, BIGISSUE.COM @BIGISSUE

yourself out there and every step of the way dare to say what you want, and dare to do what you want. Because that is the greatest gift of all, to not be regretting decisions you could’ve, should’ve, would’ve made, had you had the courage. Each step along the way, I was cocky and confident and single-minded. I couldn’t choose just one moment in my life to go back and encourage my teenage self with. I could take a time-lapse, 60-second warp-speed video of the whole thing and then at the end of it just have it go “pop” and look at that kid and say, it happens. But that would be too much for any kid to handle. Half of the fun is the rollercoaster of a real career, and a real career for me doesn’t come into play until you’ve done it for 20 years. It’s about the ebb and the flow. You have to have successes, and you have to have doubt, and you have to have failure, and you have to have tears that you shed so that when you come through it you can honestly say, now I understand. If it all happens early and quickly there’s probably not the same appreciation. You could be like a firecracker, just have a big quick pop and it’s over. Or the ebb and flow of a real honest-to-god career with all of its pain and joy. I’d rather have that. The biggest mistake I made in my life is that I didn’t take enough time to stop and look around and enjoy it. I was always so focussed on the next step, then the next and the next, that it cost me a lot of great memories. And it caused a lot of sleepless nights that weren’t warranted. It’s my biggest regret. The one thing I would tell the younger self is, enjoy it more, relax. It’s gonna have ups and downs but keep the faith. When I hit that dark period a couple of times throughout my career [long periods of non-stop touring drove him to depression], losing people along the way [long-time band member Richie Sambora left the band in 2013; Jon has said there’s not a day when he doesn’t wish “Richie had his life together and was still in the band”]. There were times it was deeply dark, and deeply hurtful and I wouldn’t wish that on myself, ever. But it’s a part of life. You come through it. It doesn’t make you feel good. But it makes sense. You know, there’s reasons why people get off the ride. And it’s probably so that you can continue on that journey. When you’re in the middle of it you don’t believe anyone who tells you you’re gonna come through it. But when you do, the scars are there and you can look at them and justify them and look back on that darkness from the light. And then you can say, okay,

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HEART AND SOUL The rocker and his wife are fighting poverty with the JBJ Soul Kitchen, which is serving up hope and housing support to those in need.

JO N AN D DO ROTH EA IN TH E KI TC HE N

of something bigger than themselves. When we are able to sit across the table from someone, we break down the barriers between us. If we are treating all with respect, we are correct in expecting that in return. Where did the idea originally come from? We were inspired by community restaurants that allow people to pay what they can. We are different in our approach as we ask our in-need diners to help around the restaurant and not pay anything. While they are volunteering we are getting to know them and creating relationships to help them find resources in our community. Who comes to eat at the restaurant? We serve a mix of people, many who are working but are underemployed, some unemployed, seniors on fixed incomes, some struggling with mental health issues. We also serve those who want to contribute to their community. They are going out to eat anyway, and they know that their donation is being used by someone in the restaurant that night. What are the problems in New Jersey that mean there are people who can’t afford food? That is a much bigger issue than I could answer here, but basically, the real cost of living is many times higher than what would be considered “living in poverty”. What role does the JBJ Soul Kitchen play in the local community? We are that place that people come to feel part of something, to connect with each other and us. Imagine if you spent all day walking around not speaking to anyone and having most people walk across the street to avoid you. It is nice to walk into a beautiful restaurant and have people genuinely care about you, and what is more heart-warming than a delicious meal?

18 FEB 2022

When you’re a rock’n’roll legend, selling out stadiums with countless anthems to your name, what do you do next? Jon Bon Jovi and his wife Dorothea Hurley co-founded the JBJ Soul Kitchen. There are no prices on the menu, instead they use a pay-it-forward model that means customers who can afford to pay more cover the cost of others who are struggling to make ends meet. The kitchen is just one of many projects from Jon Bon Jovi’s Soul Foundation, which has provided affordable housing to thousands of people across the US since 2006. “One night I was looking out a hotel window in Philadelphia and I saw a guy sleeping on a grate. And I said: ‘That’s not what our forefathers were thinking when they created this America that they dreamed of,’” Bon Jovi recalls. “And I thought, I know the issue – homelessness. Doesn’t matter if you’re Black, white, young, old, Republican, Democrat. I don’t need a scientist to find the cure, and I can make a difference. It hit me like a lightning bolt.” Since that day the kitchen has grown into a bigger part of his life with the help, guidance and hard work of Dorothea and experts in the field. “Home brings the ability to exhale,” he says. “Having a roof over your head is the greatest relief. I can’t imagine not having sanctuary to be warm in the cold and comforted in the rain. “You’ve got to put a roof over someone’s head and then you’ve got to give them the ability to provide so they can keep it over their head. You can’t just give the man a home and go, good luck. Because next month there’s a lighting bill coming. “These people have gone to great lengths to get back on their feet, to achieve this level of success where they could get that roof over their head. None of this was given to any of them; they worked for it.” The three JBJ Kitchens have become beating hearts in New Jersey communities, connecting people with services to support their housing and health needs – all while keeping them well fed. The Big Issue: Apart from the food, what are the key ingredients in the JBJ Soul Kitchen? Dorothea Hurley: We say the most important ingredient is love. Dignity and respect grow out of that. We treat everyone who comes through our doors the same. When you give a person the opportunity, they are happy to help and feel part

TEXT AND PHOTO COURTESY THE BIG ISSUE UK , ED#1437, BIGISSUE.COM @BIGISSUE

by Steve MacKenzie The Big Issue UK

The Gift of Love Melina Marchetta’s daughter was almost two when she came into her life. Their journey to adoption was built on love, community and a pinch of salt. by Melina Marchetta

illustration by Michelle Pereira

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Melina Marchetta is an internationally bestselling and award-winning author. Her books range from beloved young adult fiction and fantasy through to contemporary and crime fiction, and works for younger readers. She lives in Sydney.

here are so many narrators to the story of my daughter’s life and how she came to live with me. I never try to assume or challenge how her birth parents feel, because their story isn’t mine to tell, and it would be an insult to them if I tried. Recently, on her 10th birthday, I posted on my Instagram to family and friends. “To the glorious Miss B, the true love of my life. Happy Birthday my darling. When I think back to why it took so long to start such an amazing journey, I know it’s because our hearts were waiting for each other.” And it was a long wait. When I decided on permanent foster care, I was over 40. It wasn’t that I forgot to have children or was too busy or ambitious to find the time. It wasn’t that I was fussy or searching for the perfect man. I could continue the list forever regarding society’s views on why someone doesn’t have a child. Or who deserves to. Wanting a child wasn’t a biological clock cliché or a desperate need to be a mother. Deep down, it was this feeling that I wanted to raise a child. That I was meant to.

It started like this. I chose a foster care organisation, went to the first information night, wrote an eight-page life story, attended a course that ran over two weekends and a couple of nights, got finger-printed at the police station (three times in total over five years) to ensure I didn’t have any convictions, and ultimately welcomed two humourless social workers into my home to pick apart my life with bureaucratic zeal. I should have seen the first session as an omen for the awfulness of that experience when I served one of them tea with salt, rather than sugar. It went downhill from there. What should have been 20 hours of questions over six to eight weeks, dragged on for most of that year. Sometimes they’d disappear for months. There were confronting questions. Whether or not I felt that I had failed as a woman not giving birth naturally. It was brutal, and asked by young caseworkers who only knew how to read questions compiled by an invisible supervisor. By the end of the year, they called it quits on me first. Apart from the grief of it, I was furious with myself for not trusting my judgement. I had wanted to withdraw the application for months because they didn’t feel right to me, but I didn’t. From that moment on, I have not let anything get in the way of gut instinct. Could I begin this journey again? And how old would I be by the time the process ended? Would that be held against

the photograph. It was a three-week transition, sometimes at her foster parents’ home, other times at mine. I knew bits and pieces along the way. She had never lived with her birth parents, but they were in her life. She had been fortunate enough to be with the same foster family since birth. That sort of continuity was so important. The difficulty of foster care doesn’t end when a child comes into your life. In fact, that’s the hardest time. Because now I loved this child deeply, rather than the idea of her. And there were so many people involved in our lives: the foster care organisation who came to visit us every month, the Department of Family and Community Services, the Family Court, solicitors, barristers, and ultimately the Supreme Court. More than anything, there was B’s birth family. I’m always aware of the fact that my joy has come from someone else’s sadness, regardless of circumstances. Five years after B came to live with me, her adoption came through. It’s an open adoption, which means she sees her birth family a set number of times a year. Her birth parents aren’t together, so we see them separately. Although it’s not the case with many foster care adoptions, I have a warm relationship with both B’s mother and father, and his girlfriend. I had a very profound connection with B’s paternal grandmother, who, sadly, died this year. With foster care adoption, the mantra that must ring through your head is “in

the best interest of the child”. Transparency is important, but so is the reassurance for B that the life and the world I’ve built for us won’t be taken away from her. Everyone seems to have an opinion about foster care and adoption in this country. Much of it has to do with the heinous Stolen Generation policy, or babies being taken from their unwed mothers in the 60s and 70s. At times I believe it’s a broken system, but one we managed to get through. At other times, I’ve listened to people in the media say that nothing beats the love between a mother and the child she births. I’d have to challenge that. Nothing beats it, but something equals it. Because I feel a deep love at my heart’s core for this child. I truly believe we were meant to be. I didn’t have to give birth to her, I didn’t have to breastfeed her. I didn’t have to carry her for nine months. Did I love her from the moment I met her? I don’t know because I was too overwhelmed to measure love on that day. But I know she was the child I was meant to raise. Earlier this year she told me that one of the girls from school told a group of random kids at soccer that she was adopted. I know that B doesn’t worry about the adoption part. We always say that she was in her birth mum’s tummy, and in my heart. But I could tell she didn’t like the fact that someone chose to speak about it. My first reaction was irritation towards B’s friend. But ultimately, we knew what B would say the next time. That it’s her story to tell.

my application? Regardless, I sent a letter to three foster organisations, outlining exactly what had happened, as well as my eight-page life story. If they read the material and still wanted to speak to me, I was ready. I was on the Hawkesbury River working on a project when one of them, Barnardos, contacted me. I spent an hour on the phone, standing out in the rain overlooking the most gorgeous body of water. By the end of the conversation the hope started up again. I was the type of foster parent they were looking for. No salt in the tea this time around for the two women who came to interview me. One in her late twenties, the other in her sixties. They were warm and funny, and we chatted over weeks. I got to speak about life, and I got to ask them questions about their lives. It felt unscripted and organic. There was continuity and a deep respect for carers. In August that year they went to panel with my application, and it was approved. I was told it could take anywhere between two weeks and two years to find a match. It ended up being two months. I was in Coles when I saw my caseworker’s name come up on my phone. I didn’t answer it, because I knew in my heart that this was it. I didn’t want to find out about a child coming to live with me while I was in the frozen food aisle. I met my daughter a couple of weeks before her second birthday. It was in a park where we blew bubbles. She thinks she remembers the day, but I know it’s because of

18 FEB 2022

I’m always aware of the fact that my joy has come from someone else’s sadness…

Outdoor curling requires the perfect conditions to hold a bonspiel. Lottie Hedley captured the pompoms and ceremony of a tournament in New Zealand. series by Lottie Hedley

The Big Picture

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On Frozen Pond by Chris Kennett @chriskennett

Chris Kennett is a Melbourne-based TV writer and script editor with experience in screen, stage, radio and print.

FOR MORE, GO TO LOTTIEHEDLEYPHOTOGRAPHY.COM.

18 FEB 2022

urling is this summer’s hottest coldest sport. Amid high drama in Beijing, the Australian team recorded the country’s first-ever Olympic curling win, igniting our curly passions and guaranteeing our instant armchair expertise. But just across the ditch, the bonspiel life is a time-honoured tradition. A bonspiel, for those not glued to the Winter Olympics, is a curling tournament and these days very few are held outdoors due to the inconsistency and unpredictability of the necessary conditions. But one place where a 19kg rock may, from time to time, still be hurled across a frozen body of water in convivial company is the Maniototo Plain in Central Otago, on New Zealand’s South Island. Photographer Lottie Hedley was there to capture one such moment, when the elements aligned in the town of Naseby (pop 123), creating perfect conditions for their first outdoor “bowls on ice” tournament since 1931. A call went out across New Zealand. Any curling teams wanting a chance to play old-school would have to drop everything and get to Central Otago in little more than a day. Around 300 curlers did just that, filling every bed, couch and chair of the little town with “2000 feet above worry level” cheerfully painted on its welcome sign. “There were plenty of people that I met there who had either had to fake excuses for work, or their work knew they had this lifelong connection where they lived to curling,” says Hedley, who’d jumped on the last flight from Auckland to Dunedin to make the tournament Hedley’s images offer a tantalising taste of the bonspiel in progress, a swirl of bright woollen tam o’shanters and pompom-festooned stones atop the shimmering ice sheets of the Centennial Ponds. The brooms and arcane rules of the event – as enforced by curling’s Brother M’Lord – only add to the Quidditch feel. But is there a real sense of competition here, or just an excuse to sip whisky in knitted hats? It’s both, says Hedley. “They all want to win, but it’s got this lovely aspect where there’s no swearing, and the comments are all really upbeat. Kind of like you’re almost complimenting everyone’s shot, even if there’s some good sarcasm. “When you play a shot that the skipper down the end thinks is worthy of a break, you take your partner for a drink – whether it’s a water or a hot tea or a whisky, you take your opposite with you. It feels a bit like tennis, a bit like lawn bowls, and then way cheekier and more colourful at the same time. But they’re definitely all out to win, don’t get me wrong!” Having returned to the ice several times in the years since, Hedley has been warmly embraced by the quirky community she documents. “I’ve been pulled in as an extra when there’s a team member missing. They’ll be like, ‘Lottie, surely you’ve got enough shots, come and do some curling’ and I’m like, ‘My L4-L5 needs surgery, my chiropractor is gonna have a fit.’” She laughs. “But I’ve always done it and thoroughly enjoyed it.”

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COOK KAREN MUNROE MAKES SURE THE CURLERS ARE WELL FED

CURLERS TAKE TO THE ICE OVER THE TWO-DAY EVENT

COLE STANTON TRAVELLED SIX HOURS FOR THE TOURNAMENT

STONES ARE MADE FROM SPECIAL GRANITE SOURCED FROM AILSA CRAIG, SCOTLAND

SWEEPING REDUCES THE FRICTON OF THE STONES RUMBLING OVER THE ICE

18 FEB 2022

TEAMMATES SWEEP THEIR STONES DOWN THE COURSE

Ricky

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What was even less mature was climbing onto the roof without any safety system other than sunblock.

by Ricky French @frenchricky

No Time to Die

egular readers probably have a special groan reserved for each instalment of “Ricky attempts home renovations”. Due to my reliable ineptitude in the handyman area, these instalments are mercifully rare. But I’ve also had good feedback. The columns work as a sort of warning. If you listen carefully, you might hear magazine pages turning and couples proclaiming to each other, “See, this is why we need to hire a tradesperson.” So I’m really performing a public service: keeping actual skilled people employed, and keeping families safe. I’m proud of that. My last foolish attempt at being useful around the house resulted in what’s jauntily become known as the “asbestos shower” incident, when I pulled down our carport, which the previous owners had thoughtfully designed to be 10 centimetres narrower than the width of a car. So hopes weren’t high when I announced I would be tackling one of the most dangerous house-related jobs known to man (and yes, it’s usually only men who are silly enough): cleaning the roof tiles. I’m not sure on the exact stats, but I believe at last estimate 500,000 men a year crack their skulls open by falling off a ladder around the home. Or falling off the roof. Even if those figures are slightly out, we all know it’s a dangerous job. Which of course is what attracted me to it. I’ve climbed mountains, done high rope courses, and watched countless black-andwhite slapstick videos involving ladders, so I figured I was well qualified for the job. Being too cheap to pay an expert to do the job was another qualification, it could be argued. Let me say right away: high-pressure washers are fun. If you haven’t accidently blasted water at 1500kPa at your bare feet, I urge you to try. Actually I take that back. Please do not try this. I should have known the power of water under intense pressure.

I once saw a YouTube video where some guy cut through the Earth’s surface using the same machine I was able to deploy on my roof. Before you start thinking I was reckless, I should explain that I had some practice before climbing onto the roof. I discovered that I could wash our driveway clean using the high-pressure washer. “Could” is the key word here, because I discovered that you could also use it to draw certain shapes on the driveway. It prompted the first encouraging comment of the day: “Oh, that’s really mature, Ricky.” What was even less mature was climbing onto the roof without any safety system other than sunblock. My 14-year-old son was far too sensible to go anywhere near the ladder, so I put him in charge of ground-level operations, namely providing power to the washer on the roof via a great many linked extension cords lying in puddles on the ground. What could possibly go wrong? My mission was to remove the lichen that was growing on the roof tiles, as our home was starting to look like one of those multi‑million-dollar architecturally designed houses where they put the garden on the roof. I undertook training on how to safely and effectively remove the lichen – I watched a YouTube video – which said I had to spray the stuff with bleach. What the video didn’t say was that bleach makes roof tiles very slippery. Now, I would love to report a grand calamity – life is nothing if not a series of painful lessons – but I’m afraid I can’t lie to you. The thing is, I kind of did a good job, and I didn’t fall. I know, it’s weird. I almost felt, dare I say it…competent. It was a small let‑down, to be honest, but also nice to be alive. Sometimes life has anticlimactic endings. Columns, too.

Ricky is a writer, musician and home handyman daredevil.

by Fiona Scott-Norman @fscottnorman

PHOTOS BY JAMES BRAUND

op tip for aspiring commentators: the first rule of successful column writing is timeliness. Write what’s in the now. Seek the knife striking sparks from the steel of the zeitgeist. Be relevant! Capture those eyeballs! Pew pew! Or not. The news cycle spins so swiftly now that unless you get your hot take online within hours of, say, the PM travelling interstate to wash someone’s hair, it lands as stale as yesterday’s cronut. Not only is haste inelegant, but it also traps everyone in a stimulus/response loop requiring no more analysis than a rescue staffy hurtling after a tennis ball. Throw it again! It’s hard to reflect when everyone is quarrelling forward. It tilts discourse towards shallow and hostile, a low-tide rock pool harbouring flesh-eating bacteria. Some topics – the complex, sensitive ones – require slow and ongoing consideration. Sometimes we need to sit back, listen and consider the bigger picture. About now, perceptive readers are sensing a trap. Waitaminute. Is this a justification for something past its use-by date? Correct. But in my defence, although 26 January has receded in 2022’s rear-vision mirror, Australia Day remains a 24/7/52 sphincter-tightening topic. Attention peaks in January, attended by discount shops deciding how much flag merch to clump enticingly in their windows. I don’t envy them. It must take seventh-dimensional maths to work out potential demand. Who still buys Aussie flag thongs, bikinis or giant sponge fingers? The tourists who aren’t here? Swathes of locals are well past embracing patriotism and/or amused irony. The flag is in demand for anti-vax rallies, so that’s good for the economy, but personally I’d no more wave an Aussie flag on 26 Jan than swim at Werribee sewage farm. I wish I felt otherwise. Recent migrants must be sorely confused – required on entry to answer questions about “Australian values”, only to find that history is contested, and the interpretation

of “official” values depends entirely on who you ask. Welcome to Australia, here’s your certificate, a wattle in a plastic tube, and good luck celebrating our purported national day. You’ll need it because there’s no right way to do it; how can there be? Whichever way you slice Australia Day, it contains traces of genocide. Increasingly, I’m finding the idea of any “nationhood” celebration awkward. When Triple J moved their Hottest 100 in 2018, it was peak #ChangeTheDate energy, and it’s an attractively simple solution, right? January 26 has been the official Aboriginal Day of Mourning since 1938. It takes a special kind of tactlessness to insist on the arrival of the First Fleet as settler Australia’s fun times BBQ how good are we beach party. At the very least, 26 January should pivot to a national day of respect and reflection. But even on another date, what is Australia Day celebrating? Taking a continent by force, attempting to erase a 60,000-plus-year-old culture, and mismanaging the environment. Ew. Frankly, there’s a lot of deep thinking, listening, humility and work to do before settler Australia deserves a holiday. I’ve been thinking about the wildly popular Reddit thread AITA, or Am I the Arsehole? People give their POV on a personal event that’s blown up, and ask, AITA? Thousands of posters weigh in. Sometimes the poster IS the arsehole, sometimes they’re not. Lessons are learned. It’s usually clear where the entitled behaviour lies. “Every year we have a national holiday to mark the anniversary of stealing our country. The people we stole it from don’t want to join in, and frankly are a real downer. We think they should just get over it, and be grateful. It was aaages ago. Like 250 years. Reddit, AITA?” Um. Yes Australia. YTA.

Fiona is a writer and comedian who’s never out of date.

18 FEB 2022

Use-by Date

Seek the knife striking sparks from the steel of the zeitgeist. Be relevant! Capture those eyeballs!

Fiona

C’mon C’mon

Film 26

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Mum’s the Word Mike Mills’ new film takes a heartfelt look at motherhood, family and the delicate act of love.

by Ivana Brehas @ivanabrehas

Ivana Brehas is a writer, actor and filmmaker based in Naarm/Melbourne.

ll my films seem to be love letters to mums,” says writer-director Mike Mills. In the case of his latest movie, the tender and contemplative C’mon C’mon, the mother in question is Viv (Gaby Hoffmann, Transparent). When she has to go away for a week, her brother Johnny (Joaquin Phoenix) is given the responsibility of caring for her precocious son Jesse (Woody Norman, Poldark). Though the film’s poster spotlights Norman and Phoenix, the true crux of the film seems to be Viv, who helps Johnny navigate the complex, delicate process of caring for another human being. “I have a real unconscious need to go back to Mum,” Mills continues, “to talk about her, be around her, try to figure her out again, never figure her out – get in the muck of it with her all the time. I love being a dad, but mums have an extra load, obviously.” For Hoffmann, this film is about “how hard it is to take care of people”. Her Viv is a caregiver to both

praises her young co-star’s work ethic. “Woody is a real professional. There was no hand-holding needed. There was much more hand-holding needed between Joaquin and I,” she laughs. “We were kind of obnoxious siblings together a lot of the time.” Some hand-holding is required on screen when Johnny attempts to “do a repair” with Jesse – a therapeutic process in which Jesse is far more comfortable than his uncle. “It’s the most important scene in the movie to me,” says Mills, who often mentions the importance of therapy in his own life. “I grew up in a time when none of that was available or discussed. The kid is much more fluent in that kind of thinking: social-justice-slash-emotional-intelligenceslash-therapy.” For Mills, therapy is not only a part of his personal life, but his artistic process, too. “What you talk about in that room is my film school. Studying your own emotional history, how it plays out with those around

All my films seem to be love letters to mums.

you, how you become and understand yourself in conjunction with others – that’s my Game of Thrones.” Like 20th Century Women, C’mon C’mon incorporates passages from other writers, such as Kirsten Johnson and Jacqueline Rose. “Diversity and heterogeneity makes your stuff more interesting,” Mills says of this multi-authored method. “I’m most excited when I’m inviting someone else in, or am lucky enough to have them along on the ride.” The result is a collage of ideas and sources, calling to mind the poem ‘Peanut Butter’ by writer and performer Eileen Myles. I write because / I would like / to be used for / years after / my death. Not / only my body / will be compost / but the thoughts / I left during / my life. “The word ‘compost’ is very meaningful to me,” Mills says. “All of our human lives, our narratives, the way we describe ourselves, are at best compost for someone else. The compost metaphor is how I give myself permission to write. We all have the great potential to be compost for each other.” Hoffmann concurs with the metaphor. “It’s about becoming part of a living, ongoing thing that enriches the soil so that things can grow taller and stronger, in a healthier and more vibrant way. Whether it’s writing or crewing or acting, or how we treat our partners and friends – the work we do, whether it’s public or not, is all adding something to the soil.” C’MON C’MON IS IN CINEMAS NOW.

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her child and her partner (Scoot McNairy, Argo). “It’s the difficult work of loving, which is an act. It’s everything; it’s the only reason for being – but it’s really hard,” she says. “We don’t get to see it with this sort of meditative, quiet lens as much, but it’s what most of us are doing most of the time, especially the women in the world.” Time, like motherhood, is a recurring motif in Mills’ work. He’s previously made reflective, nostalgic films – like his last film, 20th Century Women (2016), which was based on memories of his own childhood and his mother’s life. But C’mon C’mon is more concerned with the present and the future. “Having a child often derails your adult project,” notes Mills, parent to a 10-year-old kid with wife and fellow filmmaker Miranda July. “It judo-flips the supposed order and importance of things. With a kid, time becomes much more like it is in my films. It’s emotional time – not linear time, not clock time.” C’mon C’mon recognises the complex personhood of its young protagonist, rather than being patronising. Mills credits those around him for exemplifying this respectful approach to childhood. “My kid’s preschool teacher, Nancy, is profoundly good at treating young people as whole beings who aren’t cute or little, and who deserve respect,” he says. “It’s a completely radical thing if you take that seriously. And if you take the kid inside you seriously, that’s a very radical thing too.” Phoenix and Hoffmann – who were both child actors – understand this sentiment well, and Hoffman

PHOTO BY TOBIN YELLAND

DIRECTOR MIKE MILLS

Troppo Troppo

Small Screens THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

“I Had to Play Her” After a challenging few years, Nicole Chamoun is back on our TV screens, in a crime drama series she says is unlike any other. by Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen

Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen is a VietnameseAustralian writer based in Melbourne.

TROPPO PREMIERES SUNDAY 27 FEBRUARY ON ABC TV, WITH ALL EPISODES AVAILABLE TO BINGE ON ABC IVIEW.

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“If casting is done well, then half the job is done for you as an actor. [Jane] and I have a naturally odd chemistry that just makes sense and works for these two characters,” Chamoun says. “I just allowed the writing and the space to dictate the energy for us.” Filming took place over five months, and Chamoun describes it as “a big job, physically and emotionally”. Though it was a challenge, she doesn’t see that as a negative thing: “I want my work to challenge me,” she says. “It was such a whirlwind, and we were enthralled in it all. We were working very, very hard every day, and that pushed me. I feel like I grew as an actor and as a performer in ways that you don’t get to if you’re not thrown in the deep end – it’s totally a challenge that I relish.” Chamoun’s last two major roles, in On the Ropes and Safe Harbour, were both characters who shared a similar cultural background to her own. Troppo includes characters and actors from a range of backgrounds, including the Korean family whose patriarch is missing, without making their racial identities the focal point. Indeed, Amanda’s ethnicity is not explicitly mentioned, because it’s just one aspect of a character who is far more complex. It’s something Chamoun appreciates as both an actor and viewer, and sees as progress in a still white-dominated industry. Australian media has often struggled with embodying representation and diversity in a meaningful, rather than tokenistic, way – and Troppo is a step in the right direction. “I think when something is truly diverse, and when you have a very rich tapestry of people and cultures included in a project, it should just fit in the background naturally like it does in life, rather than shining the light specifically on the fact that you have chosen them for ethnicity,” she says. “That’s what’s great about this – this character wasn’t written necessarily for someone who looked like me, but I love the fact that they decided to go in this direction and to allow me to be who she is.” Chamoun is looking forward to introducing audiences to Amanda and the wild world of Troppo. “The show is unlike anything I’ve really seen on Australian television, certainly in the last few years,” she says. “People will be intrigued and excited and surprised, and I hope they come along for the ride.”

PHOTO BY DANIEL ASHER SMITH

ustralian actor Nicole Chamoun’s first lead role in four years is a special one that has healed and transformed her after a period of great hardship. “It’s been a weird time for the world and for me,” the actor shares on a phone call from Byron Bay. Over the past few years, COVID shutdowns and her personal struggles took her out of the industry completely. “When I decided to come back in, this was one of the first auditions that came my way… I knew instinctively that she was in me and that I had to play her.” The two-time Logie nominee, known for the SBS miniseries On the Ropes (2018) and Safe Harbour (2018), is talking about her latest character, Amanda Pharrell, who she plays on ABC’s new eight-part crime drama Troppo. A private investigator with a chequered past, Amanda was accused of murder as a teenager; as a result, she’s a lone wolf, mysterious and often misunderstood. “Amanda is unlike myself in many ways, but characters come to you at a very specific and right time in your life, and I think I needed her when she arrived,” says Chamoun, who publicly shared her battle with cancer this month. “It was just really, really therapeutic for me to pour all the trauma from the past 24 months into this character. I’ve never played a role quite like her before.” Directed by Jocelyn Moorhouse (The Dressmaker) and based on Candice Fox’s bestselling novel Crimson Lake, Troppo is a slow‑burning and gritty series that builds intrigue with gradual reveals in each episode. When Amanda gets wind of news of a missing tech pioneer, she recruits American ex-cop Ted Conkaffey (Thomas Jane, also serving as the show’s executive producer), who was also accused of a horrific crime. The odd couple join forces to uncover the man’s whereabouts, but soon discover a string of bizarre deaths, leading them further down the rabbit hole. Through their investigations, the characters begin to reveal their own complicated histories, and forge an unlikely bond in the scorching Far North Queensland landscape. Chamoun and Jane are the show’s magnetic, central driving forces. Amanda and Ted are both social outcasts but come from very different walks of life. Both are world-weary for different reasons – Ted, reeling from the dissolution of his marriage, has lost himself to drink. Yet it’s this mismatch that makes them all the more compelling to watch, especially as they discover unexpected commonalities and develop an allegiance – maybe even a friendship.

Sixteen years and eight albums since they first set their eyes on the stars, Beach House dive deeper into their own universe. by Keva York

Keva York is a writer and critic based in Melbourne/Naarm. She regularly reviews films for ABC Arts.

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altimore-based duo Beach House glided onto the scene in 2006 with their debut LP, a self-titled collection of woozy, coruscating dream-pop tracks haunted by the reverberant spirit of Cocteau Twins and Mazzy Star. While those bands worked to generate an expansive sound, Beach House was almost sparse in its instrumentation, anchored by Victoria Legrand’s heady, drawn-out vocals and lilting organ. It was a small affair, recorded on a four‑track over just two days in the basement of guitarist and back-up vocalist Alex Scally. The aughts bore witness to an indie music explosion across the US, and Beach House’s own Baltimore was a hub for a number of artists who would help define the feel of the era (think Animal Collective and Dan Deacon). “It definitely felt like there was electricity,” recalls Legrand, speaking with Scally from the city they still call home. “There were shows every night and everyone was in a band, and there were bands coming from out of town and people staying at people’s houses. We were excited by everything.” Sixteen years on from their debut, Beach House – built on a bedrock of deep friendship and musical simpatico – have held their

ground, while many bands have come and gone. The release of each subsequent album has felt like a return to the eponymous vacation haven, where time slows and late afternoon naps are troubled by sunlight pouring in through the windows. Once Twice Melody, Legrand and Scally’s eighth and latest full-length offering, feels like just such a getaway, yet here the band sounds bigger, more cinematic, than ever before. For the first time, they’ve brought in live strings, used as a complement to the synthesisers they’ve long employed, to emulate the sound of a string orchestra. At 18 tracks, this lovesick new album is also their most sprawling, reflecting its three-year gestation period. The record is divided into four chapters, each taking up one side of the double LP, each “its own little story within a larger arc,” says Scally. “I think having more time than ever and more songs than ever just took us down a path of complete openness and indulgence,” reflects Legrand. Despite the grander scale of Once Twice Melody, Scally describes the process of making the album as “pretty insular”. While the pair have previously worked with go-to

PHOTO BY DAVID BELISLE

Music

Beach House

Destination: Beach House

ONCE TWICE MELODY IS OUT NOW.

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VICTORIA LEGRAND

When you’re making art, the best part about it is that you feel like you’re free.

indie producer Chris Coady, this time around they decided to take on production duties themselves. Although both have always been hands-on at every stage of the recording process, “there would normally be at least one or two other people around,” says Legrand. “This time there was no-one else around – so it was very intense.” “There was this weird kind of desert-island sensibility that developed,” adds Scally. “That felt like it was connected to our first record, even though it doesn’t sound much like the first record.” Once Twice Melody gets cosmic where Beach House stayed earthbound; it’s an album that finds Legrand looking up towards the sky rather than out at the sea: “The painted stars, they fill our eyes,” she sings on the eulogistic ‘Pink Funeral’. In a 2016 interview, Legrand spoke of being in “a different universe” every time she and Scally sat down to make a record. When I ask about the universe that begat Once Twice Melody, with its cyclical tales of new loves and swiftly broken hearts, Legrand hesitates. “This place is really hard to describe simply,” she ventures. “Maybe it’s part of getting older – I think life gets more psychedelic. It gets deeper and more emotional and more painful as you get older. The only word I can use is intense – intense feelings, an intense ride. That’s how it’s felt, and I don’t see how it can become less intense.” “You think it only gets more intense?” queries Scally, sounding surprised. The soft‑spoken guitarist tends to let his bandmate speak first, chiming in mostly to affirm or elaborate on a point she’s made; here is a rare note of a possible dissension. Legrand doubles down: “I think it only gets more intense.” Making music, at least, functions as a reprieve: “The world can be incredibly distracting and overwhelming,” says Legrand, “but when you’re making art, the best part about it is that you feel like you’re free – you’re able to express yourself how you want to express yourself. You’re trying to get out of a self-conscious state of being.” There’s escape to be had in listening too. “There’s so many things you can act out and pretend through music,” she says. “There’s a lot of theatre in it.” Beach House will always be a beloved holiday destination for the starry-eyed romantics among us.

Lisa Taddeo

Books

Animal Instinct Lisa Taddeo, the bestselling author of Three Women and Animal, talks rage, desire and what women deserve.

@_astridedwards_

Astrid Edwards is the host of The Garret, a podcast for those who love Australian writers. PHOTO BY

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

by Astrid Edwards

isa Taddeo is a contradiction. When we speak via Zoom she is in Connecticut, USA. It is an unexpected Snow Day, meaning her young daughter is not at school. Her daughter wants to join the interview, and her partner is present too, helping with tech issues. Taddeo presents as the definition of professional domesticity – a stark contrast to her protagonists and the visceral books she is known for. Three Women – an exploration of the desires and sex lives of three American women over almost a decade – made international headlines when published in 2019 (in the days post MeToo and pre‑pandemic). Taddeo followed this up with her first novel, Animal, in late 2021. Moving from non-fiction to fiction, Animal follows the highly unlikable protagonist Joan. Joan is a loner, and in the opening pages she reveals she sleeps with married men, is tracking down a mysterious woman, and has killed someone. Although wildly different, both books centre women’s wants, women’s trauma, and expectations about what

and protests around sexual assault, child abuse and domestic violence have taken centre stage, thanks to advocacy work by the likes of Rosie Batty, Veronica Gorrie, Grace Tame and Brittany Higgins. These conversations are occurring as the hidden abuse in the home during the pandemic comes to light. Taddeo is intrigued by this, and reflects that domestic abuse and violence are not part of the national conversation to the same degree in the United States. Given that her works are raw and go where few other writers venture, would she ever consider writing about a woman’s experience of lockdown? “I’m interested in it, and the mental abuse that happens to women. Something I’m looking at for a future project is when women are called ‘crazy’ and their children are taken away... I want to shine more of a light on the gaslighting that happens.” She goes further. “One of the things that is so difficult about domestic abuse is the way other women judge. Think of a woman going back to a man. She may not be able to talk about it, and that is something we women do to each other. It is terrible and keeps us quiet and silent.”

Taddeo laughs when considering how her work will be placed in the canon of contemporary MeToo literature. “I don’t know. I would imagine that things considered too spicy, too hard-hitting – that will go away and people will realise these things do happen. For me it is about hoping that these works open up what people find themselves believing.” And as for setting a future work explicitly in this time of pandemic? Taddeo sees it happening. “The real thirst is on the writer’s side, the writer finding the ideal way to express what this time feels like. There will be more work exploring that feeling. I’m looking forward to seeing what my contemporaries are going to do with it.” Taddeo has a busy year ahead. She is currently adapting Three Women for Showtime, where she is both writer and executive producer (Shailene Woodley, star of Big Little Lies and Divergent, will play Taddeo, the narrator). “I’m constantly learning,” she says. “It’s difficult to have a lot of people involved and wanting to put their opinions in, and that is not something that I’ve had to deal with when writing a book.”

TADDEO WILL APPEAR AT ADELAIDE WRITERS WEEK IN MARCH. GHOST LOVER , HER COLLECTION OF NINE SHORT STORIES (TWO OF WHICH HAVE BEEN AWARDED THE PUSHCART PRIZE), WILL BE RELEASED IN JUNE.

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women deserve. Even so, Taddeo admits her choice to move from her breakthrough non-fiction debut to long-form fiction was “not something that makes an abundant amount of sense”. “I enjoy having range; it makes me feel good about myself as a creator. So that makes me happy and being excited about what I’m writing is ultimately what I want in life.” She pauses, and adds, “It is not what my publisher expected, or perhaps wanted.” We both laugh – publishers the world over are renowned for wanting a second book just like the first. She becomes animated when considering how the pandemic affected her creativity. Three Women took more than eight years to write. It was an intense experience, with Taddeo often moving town to town to be close to her subjects. Animal was mostly written during that time as well. “I’m such a naturally anxious person that the pandemic was kind of my normal, so it didn’t affect my writing so much.” Given her decreased travel commitments (Taddeo spent a lot of time on the road for Three Women), “it actually made it easier to do work, in some ways”. The world has rapidly changed since Three Women’s publication. In Australia, conversations

PHOTO BY LARA DOWNIE

For me it is about hoping that these works open up what people find themselves believing.

Film Reviews

Aimee Knight Film Editor @siraimeknight

fter the stop-start upheavals of the past two years, it’s a pleasure to see film festivals re-emerging across the country. Right now, the 29th Mardi Gras Film Festival is unfurling in Sydney, centred on the stand-out program strand Focus on First Nations. It includes romantic dramas Wildhood and Querencia from Canada, the US documentary Pure Grit about extreme bareback horseracing, and an exquisite bit of magical realism in Horacio Alcalá’s Finlandia. Along with gala evenings, there are five community screenings with $10 tickets happening across the city before the festival tours to the Blue Mountains (11-13 March) and Canberra (18-21 March). A huge chunk of the program is also streaming via the festival’s website until 3 March, and my pick of the online suite is Sweetheart. This feature debut from the UK’s Marley Morrison sees an awkward teen girl contend with love, family and sunburn at an English seaside holiday park. For folks in Sydney and Melbourne, the Europa! Europa Film Festival is underway until 27 February, packed with highlights from last year’s Cannes, Berlin and Venice film fests, plus the first local screenings of Joanna Hogg’s eagerly awaited The Souvenir Part II. And for those hitting play at home, the Japanese Film Festival has returned with a digital edition. Seventeen features and shorts are free to watch until 27 February. I’m keen to check out Ito, in which traditional and contemporary Japanese cultures clash in a maid cafe. AK

SWEETHEART DEAL

WYRMWOOD: APOCALYPSE 

Nothing embodies modern Ozploitation quite like an armoured Toyota Corolla tearing through the zombie wasteland. There’s a kinetic playfulness to the latest film from the Roache-Turner brothers, who display a knack for genre thrills – bullets, teeth and surgical instruments eviscerate flesh with flair – but struggle to find a fresh angle on the undead. Leading us down this familiar road is Rhys (Luke McKenzie), a soldier doing the bidding of an unscrupulous scientist (Nick Boshier), who’s researching a cure for the zombie virus. After crossing paths with scattered rebel survivors (including fan favourites from Apocalypse’s 2015 predecessor), Rhys’ loyalties are tested, and the fate of the post-apocalypse falls into his hands. The rote plotting streaks by so quickly that boredom never settles in. But the film struggles to transcend its own inspirations, tangled within slavish tributes to Sam Raimi and George Romero. If you don’t mind the warmed‑over taste, Wyrmwood: Apocalypse still packs a punch. JAMIE TRAM HIVE

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

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Director Blerta Basholli knows there are no easy choices in the aftermath of trauma. This Sundance prize-winning debut, based on a true story, follows Fahrije (Yllka Gashi), a financially insecure mother whose husband has been missing since the Kosovan war. As she and the widowed women of her village struggle to support their families, Fahrije initiates a business supplying ajvar – a red pepper relish – to Kosovan supermarkets, generating painful gossip and abuse from members of her traditional, patriarchal community. Gashi’s performance is full of quiet resolve, and the film wisely spends much of its trim runtime fixed to her steely, penetrating expression. Despite some predictable narrative beats, Hive is well-rendered and naturalistic, gently balancing Fahrije’s desire for autonomy with the restorative camaraderie found in her community of women. Asking how one might reconfigure their life from the remains of national tragedy, Basholli’s film underscores the value of mutual aid, finding levity in moments of collective care. TIIA KELLY

FLEE 

Rare is the documentary that evinces trust between storyteller and subject. Director Jonas Poher Rasmussen does away with all trappings of objectivity and hands over the reins to Flee’s central figure, Amin. As a child, Amin fled a Kabul ravaged by the Soviet-Afghan War and civil war; this life-ordeath exodus sees Amin’s family dispersed across Europe – and Amin himself unmoored. The film lays bare the twin ills of displacement and denial, which, for Amin, are entangled with sexual orientation. But, in adopting a confessional style, Flee affords Amin the agency he has otherwise been deprived. Animation interweaves with archival footage to build a first-person account of not just conflict and intolerance but also the silences marking trauma: uneasy embraces, unsaid goodbyes, unexpressed affection, laments for youth cut short. Testimony moves us because it makes tangible the humanity of those Other to ourselves. In Flee, we are entrusted with Amin’s yearning for home – in the world and within himself. ADOLFO ARANJUEZ

Small Screen Reviews

Claire Cao Small Screens Editor @clairexinwen

STREET GANG: HOW WE GOT TO SESAME STREET  | VOD

SEVERANCE

 | PARAMOUNT+ 4 MARCH

 | APPLE TV+

If you’re sick of (or disturbed by) the adult‑ification of teenagers in HBO’s Euphoria, then More Than This is a new kid on the block. Although gritty teen dramas about sexuality, drugs and complex issues have long existed, it’s rare that authentic young voices are ever at the forefront. Written and co-created by Australian actor Olivia Deeble (Home and Away) when she was 17, along with trans non-binary actor Luka Gracie, More Than This centres on five diverse high school students whose worlds collide in an English Extension class. Each episode focuses on a different student and the challenges they face, from dysfunctional family dynamics and body image to queerness, loneliness and bullying. Featuring a talented cast, their passion for telling these stories is palpable. Especially notable is Deeble’s performance as breadwinner Charlotte, exuding ferocity and vulnerability beneath her smudged eyeliner. In a world where adults fail to take teenagers and their problems seriously, More Than This is a rebel yell demanding that we see young people as more. CLAIRE WHITE

Those craving more work-life balance should heed the warnings of Severance, an off-kilter thriller that imagines a company where work and personal memories can be surgically separated for any consenting employee. The show begins as Helly (Britt Lower) starts work at the “severed floor” of Lumen Industries, with no memories of her life outside. Meticulous set pieces, labyrinthine hallways and a ghostly piano theme all add to the sense of corporate dystopia, as do its curiously unsympathetic inhabitants, including pen-pusher Mark (Adam Scott) and draconian executive Peggy (Patricia Arquette, playing a delightfully offbeat honcho). Directors Ben Stiller and Aoife McArdle artfully tackle the moral ambiguities of the severance procedure, with each episode dissecting the hidden consequences of extreme compartmentalisation, which splinters identities and generates employees unbeholden to their personal selves. As the mystery unravels, Severance goes above the high-concept pitch and forms a deeply intriguing story. VALERIE NG

or connoisseurs of real-life scammers, Anna Delvey (real name Anna Sorokin) is a particularly alluring figure. In the 2010s, the Russianborn fraudster whisked away more than US$275,000 from New York City’s premier socialites, hotels, gallerists and banks – simply by posing as a German heiress with a bloated trust fund. She’s the perfect subject for TV powerhouse Shonda Rhimes (Grey’s Anatomy, Bridgerton), who’s always been fond of go-getters, feverish schemes and generous helpings of melodrama. Inventing Anna, on Netflix, begins each episode with a cheeky disclaimer: “This whole story is completely true…except for the parts that are totally made up.” But the joy of the show is discovering that the wildest beats are real. Yes, Sorokin really did stay at a luxe hotel for months without paying a cent! Yes, she tricked City National Bank into giving her that much money! Julia Garner (Ozark) is great fun as Sorokin, at turns implacable and vulnerable, with a hilariously odd accent that speaks to her vague origins. Despite all her manipulations and crimes, she’s often presented as a modern folk hero, who exposes the naivety and silliness of the mega-wealthy. Rhimes’ love for ensembles means that journo Vivian (Anna Chulmsky), who popularised Sorokin’s exploits, gets equal screen time. Vivian’s struggles against her gatekeeping male editors don’t quite cohere with Sorokin’s dizzying schemes – but Inventing Anna is a compulsively bingeable Shondaland title, cementing Sorokin’s place in the pantheon of mastermind girlbosses. CC

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MORE THAN THIS

INVENTING ANNA

Rarely a week passes these days without a conservative commentator decrying Sesame Street for getting “political”. They ought to watch this energetic, edifying documentary, as it surveys the radical origins of the preschool edutainment staple. Debuting in 1969, Sesame’s opening gambit – relayed here by some of its main players – was to combine Madison Avenue marketing methods with irreverent humour and social justice objectives in order to “sell the alphabet” to disadvantaged kids. Director Marilyn Agrelo (Mad Hot Ballroom) assembles a wealth of archival footage from the show’s golden years, peppering in talking heads with key creatives and, befittingly, their children, who grew up while their virtuoso dads – puppeteer Jim Henson, director Jon Stone and composer Joe Raposo – were dedicated to Sesame’s hectic schedule. The breezy pace means some tougher aspects feel skimmed, and there’s little sense of where Sesame’s at today (when we need its lessons in sincerity more than ever). However, the film is a playful primer on a TV pioneer and enduring force for chaotic good. AIMEE KNIGHT

Music Reviews

Isabella Trimboli Music Editor

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

he Weeknd – real name Abel Tesfaye – is one of our most interesting pop stars. His 2020 album After Hours managed to generate huge, ubiquitous pop hits without dampening his dark vision: a self-destructive sleaze slinking around LA in a narcotic haze, sleeping with models and nodding off at parties. He continues his gloomy world-building on his latest, surprise album Dawn FM. A concept album about a retro pop radio station in purgatory. Tesfaye’s had a more interesting ascent than most pop stars. He started as an indie icon a decade ago; his woozy, lo-fi debut House of Balloons was praised by Pitchfork and generated huge hype online. His distorted, uncanny songs helped popularise the dreaded “alt-R&B”, a phrase that clings to any artist making music outside of the genre’s typical parameters. Crossover to the mainstream happened gradually, with albums that were filled with pop hooks destined for radio play. But these albums were a low point of Tesfaye’s career, with the artist unable to balance his desire for pop dominance with dark, more complex experimentation. Dawn FM strikes the balance perfectly. There are bonafide hits (the retro-funk ‘Sacrifice’) mixed with wilder explorations (the synth-heavy, electronic excess of ‘Gasoline’). His sleazy, nihilistic persona is still present, but unlike his previous albums, Tesfaye seems genuinely worried about hurtling towards oblivion. Fatalism, it seems, is far easier to revel in when it feels out of reach, not everyday reality. IT

G IN B A S K IN EEKND THE W

@itrimboli

THE BOY NAMED IF ELVIS COSTELLO & THE IMPOSTERS 

After more than 30 albums, Elvis Costello sounds remarkably spontaneous and fresh-faced on The Boy Named If. That’s especially notable because Davey Faragher’s bass and Steve Nieve’s keyboards were added remotely after Costello had laid down guitar alongside Pete Thomas’ drums. Longtime fans will savour this rewarding tour of the English songwriter’s established sweet spots, from the wiry guitar gnashing and itchy reggae flirtations on ‘The Death of Magic Thinking’ to the sloshing pub singalong ‘The Man You Love to Hate’. The album starts off strong, with the bracing immediacy of ‘Farewell, OK’ and the title track, a cynical ode to our dialogues with our inner selves. ‘Paint the Red Rose Blue’ even plays like a spiritual sequel to Costello’s 1981 cover of the country ballad ‘A Good Year for the Roses’. If not exactly striking into new territory – something Costello has already done plenty of times – this is a well-executed victory lap that maintains its vigour and momentum in tandem with those famously withering lyrics. DOUG WALLEN

CAPRISONGS FKA TWIGS

BLUE NO MORE GABRIELLA COHEN

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The story of FKA Twigs’ career is one of virtuosic shapeshifting. Her transition from elite backup dancer to singer/producer/ director has generated impeccable, singular works designed to blow minds. But the artist’s calculated intricacy and grandeur can sometimes make her character seem opaque. On new mixtape Caprisongs, Twigs seems intent on downgrading her theatrics in exchange for intimacy, lightness and play. Along with collaborators including El Guincho and Arca, Twigs weaves a relentlessly catchy catalogue of party music that luxuriates in its immediacy. Many tracks reference styles specific to London party culture, particularly ‘papi bones’, featuring Shygirl, which pays tribute to Jamaican sound systems. Voice memos slip glimpses of casual conversation into this celebratory milieu, further heightening the breezy and flirty atmosphere. It’s delicious and necessary. Caprisongs arrives at a time when many of us need simple levity and enjoyment – and it delivers richly. MARCUS WHALE

The Melbourne-based artist’s latest is the epitome of the summer album: a breezy affair filled with songs about brief flings (‘Just for the Summer’), crushes (‘I Just Got So High’) and odes to tapping out (‘Frangelico Dreams’). Cohen’s previous albums – Pink Is the Colour of Unconditional Love (2018) and Full Closure and No Details (2016) – were more loose and lo-fi, filled with sprawling garage and acoustic numbers, but here the sound is tighter and more robust. The palette is surf rock, 60s girl group melodies, blues, psych-folk and rollicking 70s rock. While energetic and fun, sometimes Cohen ventures too close to rock tropes and lyrical cliché, which makes some of her songs’ carefree sentiment feel a little saccharine. She is best when in a softer and more contemplative register, like the lovely, unadorned ‘Water’ and expansive and reverb-heavy ‘Blue No More’. On these tracks, you can fully take in Cohen’s wonderful and versatile vocals, which move from euphoric yelps to mournful melancholia with complete ease. ISABELLA TRIMBOLI

Book Reviews

Melissa Fulton Deputy Editor @melissajfulton

THE FURIES MANDY BEAUMONT

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It’s notable that even during the pandemic, while telling ourselves to value reprieve and to slow down, many of us escalated our endeavours to increase productivity. Here Madeleine Dore invites us to do and be less, to release ourselves from the pressures of over-commitment. Dore, writer and selfprofessed conductor of “life experiments”, weaves her own reflections with those of varied subjects she has interviewed since 2014, including the likes of social researcher and author Hugh Mackay, and author, engineer and activist Yassmin Abdel-Magied. In relatable and reassuring prose, Dore contends that the messy imperfections of being human should not be overcome or even just tolerated, but embraced. Not so much instructive, but more a wondering-outloud philosophy for living, Dore pedestals the nuances of humanness and the joys we cannot measure, while ruminating on envy, success, routine and guilt. Dore invites us to explore a creative mindset where we contemplate and value what will fill, rather than diminish, our everyday. DASHA MAIOROVA

About to turn 17, Cynthia is working at an abattoir and nursing an unwanted pregnancy in smalltown Queensland in 1999. Just a year before, her family dissolved with a single act stemming from her mother’s mental illness. Mandy Beaumont’s debut novel takes inspiration from the avenging female spirits of classic mythology to tell a harrowing tale about how routinely men can abuse women. The book’s first third is especially brutal, as Cynthia hurls herself into fresh trauma to blunt her recent tragedy. But the second third sheds valuable light on her mum’s perspective, and the final third sees Cynthia begin to stand up for herself at work and beyond. Evoking a ghostly chorus of “all the women who’ve come before” that first disturbs and then empowers her heroine, Beaumont makes us aware of the dangers faced by women every day. The setting may be the rural Australia of two decades ago, but the themes – and stakes – are painfully universal. DOUG WALLEN

OLGA DIES DREAMING XOCHITL GONZALEZ 

At first glance this debut – which explores the lives of high-profile New York wedding planner Olga Acevedo and her Congressman brother Prieto as they grapple with their Puerto Rican roots in the wake of Hurricane Maria – appears to simply be a novel about the woes of the diaspora in the United States. But Gonzalez is far more ambitious than that. The plot keeps excellent pace and readers will find themselves gripped by the endless sketchy situations in which Olga and Prieto find themselves, the dynamics of the Acevedo family, and the political and social landscape that defines their lives. It is a rare feat to effectively pair engaging storytelling with skewering takes on capitalism, politics, racism and identity, and yet Gonzalez walks the line brilliantly. At times it felt like there were too many characters and intersecting storylines at the expense of genuine character development, but this is a small complaint about an otherwise stunning novel, which explores contemporary issues with depth and emotion. SARAH MOHAMMED

I DIDN’T DO THE THING TODAY MADELEINE DORE

18 FEB 2022

et something seems very right to me about going mad in a supermarket,” writes New Yorker Hilma Wolitzer: “those painted oranges, threatening to burst at the navel; formations of cans, armoured with labels and prices and weights; cuts of meat, aggressively bloody; and crafty peaches and apples, showing only their glowing perfect faces, hiding the rot and soft spots on their undersides.” This titular short story, first published in 1966 and now collected in Today a Woman Went Mad in the Supermarket, is every bit as ripe and fresh as those crafty supermarket fruits pretend to be. As is the rest of the collection, with its telling cover of a waxy lemon, zest peeled back in the formation of a hand grenade. What Wolitzer does so well is detonate ordinary pockets of everyday domestic life – a trip to the shops, a weekend drive with the family, apartment living with nosy neighbours – exposing the raw nerves, the hilarities, the grief and rage and strangeness that simmers just below the surface. Wolitzer – the mother of New York Times-bestselling author Meg – is now 91, and this collection showcases her garrulous, witty voice, her compassion and heaving life force. The collection’s closing tale, ‘The Great Escape’, is inspired by Wolitzer and her husband Morty’s COVID battle in 2020, a battle that tragically, Morty did not win. Impossibly, Wolitzer’s wry humour still shines through: “It’s still going on – I mean the pandemic and all the rest of life.” I hope she lives forever. MF

Public Service Announcement

by Lorin Clarke @lorinimus

Somewhere, possibly near where you are right now, is someone you haven’t met yet who might just change your life. Possibly in a tiny way – by introducing you to a new flavour of tea or giving you a brilliant tip about the best way to poach eggs – or possibly in a huge way, like becoming a hilarious friend or helping you be the best version of yourself. Any person you say hi to when you pass them in the street could be miserable. You could be the only person they’ve spoken to all day. Small talk, which often feels insincere or pointless, can sometimes shift someone out of themselves in just the right way. Use your little bit part in other people’s life stories to inject a bit of kindness or humour or lightness. Or don’t. Just nod at them. Or say hello, using only your face. Last year, when the wonderful musical theatre genius Stephen Sondheim passed away, people noted that he was brilliant from a very early age and was lucky to be in the right place at the right time. He was born in just the right city for his skillset. He had the right friends, and the right family. Sure, he worked very hard, but there was a place where that kind of work was celebrated, and it was basically his doorstep. So here’s to the people who are born in the wrong town, and the wrong family. The geniuses living in poverty or held down by menial jobs. The imaginations that could think us all out of trouble if we only gave them a chance. Something we don’t get when we encounter other people while taking part in our own narrative arc is their perspective on us. We don’t see life through their

eyes. We don’t watch us walking towards them. We don’t assess ourselves through their lived experience. This is why it’s sometimes interesting to have those conversations with friends about their first impressions of you. They thought you were shy. They thought you were loud. They thought you thought they were an idiot. Rarely is a first impression entirely correct. Usually, the data people are using to build their impression is largely self-generated. In other words, it’s more about them than it is about you. For this reason, when you see someone in the supermarket and you think they’re looking at you with judgement or disdain, chances are there’s something going on that isn’t about you. I watched a woman becoming irritated with someone in a shop recently. “Are you right?” she demanded of another woman who was quite close to her elbow. The second woman, surprised, turned and apologised. Then she put her hand to her face and said, “Are you okay? Have I upset you?” Never have I seen the heat sizzle up and off a situation so fast. They were chatting together by the fruit and veg for ages. There is someone, somewhere, right now, writing some words that are going to change the way people think. There’s someone playing the opening notes of a song all of us are going to know this time next year but nobody’s heard yet. A discovery, in a lab maybe, or out in a field, or deep in the ocean, is probably taking place in some form right now. It might change your life, but you don’t know the person who thought of it. You will probably never know the person who thought of it. People can be truly terrible. We’re responsible for basically every problem, ever. But people are also wonderful, and surprising. Sometimes, wandering out into the world and coming across a brand-new human, even if only for a second, can serve as a useful reminder that our own lives centre the main character. Sometimes it’s good to zoom out, and borrow a few paragraphs from someone else’s story.

Lorin Clarke is a Melbourne-based writer. The second season of her radio series and podcast, The Fitzroy Diaries, is on ABC Radio National and the ABC Listen app now.

hen inundated by media telling us to fear each other and science telling us to stay away from each other, feeling a bit misanthropic is fair enough. Maybe you don’t want to go out with your work friends. Maybe your family catch-ups are more stressful than they should be. Do your housemates leave things in the sink for days? Public Service Announcement: the world is full of other people. People you haven’t met yet. People you might not ever meet. Sometimes it’s good to remind yourself that if your life is a film, narrated by you, there are other films, other stories, happening all around you.

18 FEB 2022

Zoom Out

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Tastes Like Home edited by Anastasia Safioleas

FOOD PHOTO BY ALAN BENSON, PORTRAIT BY ADAM TIBERI

Tastes Like Home XXX Dobson Ross

Whole Snapper Ingredients Serves 4-5

Method

Cut several diagonal incisions across the skin and flesh of the fish. Put the fish in a large non-metallic dish and pour the rice wine over it. Cut the piece of ginger in half and cut one half into thin discs. Cut half the spring onions into 10cm lengths. Put the ginger discs, spring onion pieces and half the coriander in the cavity of the fish. Cover and set aside for 20 minutes. Peel and cut the remaining ginger into thin matchsticks. Cut the remaining spring onions into similar-sized pieces to the ginger. Combine the soy, chicken stock and sugar in a small bowl, stir to dissolve the sugar. Tear off a sheet of foil, ensuring it is larger than the fish. Tear off a similar-sized sheet of baking paper and lay this on the foil. Put the fish on the baking paper. Now lay another sheet of baking paper and then foil over the fish. Fold around the edges to seal. Set aside for 20 minutes. Your firepit is ready to cook on after about 2 hours of burning, when the timber is charcoal black, has transformed into red hot coals about the size of golf balls, and the smoke has all but subsided. To test for heat, you should not be able to hold the palm of your hand 5-10cm above the grill for more than 2-3 seconds. Replace the grill over the firepit and give it around 10 minutes to heat up. Put the fish parcel on the firepit grill and cook for 30 minutes. Leaving the fish wrapped, transfer to a serving platter. Unwrap the parcel and pour the sauce over the fish. Scatter with the ginger and spring onions. Put the vegetable oil and sesame oil in a small frying pan and place on the firepit. When the oil is smoking hot, pour it over the fish then quickly scatter with the remaining coriander and white pepper to serve.

Ross says…

ome, to me, was the western suburbs of Sydney at a time when new housing estates dominated the landscape. In a culture that was almost entirely white Aussie, my family was fortunate enough to have neighbours from Greece, Egypt and Hong Kong. I only realised many years later, long after I had moved away to the big smoke of Sydney, that many were political asylum seekers. We would share food. My dad was a mad cook and loved his food, so he both encouraged and relished the occasion. The Chung family lived directly behind our house, with only a wooden fence separating us. With our Sunday roasts and meat and two veg, and they with their homemade dumplings and Cantonese stir-fries, food would be passed over the fence. This ignited in me a passion for Asian flavours. I enrolled in a Chinese cooking class at the local TAFE when I was 14 and the rest is history. The Chungs would make a weekly pilgrimage into Sydney’s Chinatown. Sometimes, I would tag along. On these excursions they would get all the ingredients they needed to get them through the week: fresh ginger, spring onions, garlic chives, Chinese greens and seafood. I clearly remember fish head soup and curries and the classic steamed whole fish with ginger and spring onions. This recipe translates perfectly well to cooking on a firepit. It is simple to prepare, impressive and delicious. 18 FEB 2022

3 tablespoons light soy sauce 3 tablespoons chicken stock 1 teaspoon sugar 3 tablespoons vegetable oil 1 tablespoon sesame oil ½ teaspoon white pepper

PLAN TO RECREATE THIS DISH AT HOME? TAG US WITH YOUR CREATION! @BIGISSUEAUSTRALIA #TASTESLIKEHOME

FIREPIT BARBECUE BY ROSS DOBSON IS OUT NOW.

1 large, whole snapper, about 2kg, cleaned and gutted 3 tablespoons Chinese rice wine 10cm piece of ginger 1 bunch spring onions 1 bunch coriander, chopped

Puzzles

ANSWERS PAGE 45.

By Lingo! by Lee Murray leemurray.id.au NURSE

U S

N D E H

Sudoku

Each column, row and 3 x 3 box must contain all numbers 1 to 9.

8 2

1 5 6

CLUES 5 letters Adjusted (a piano) Beaten with a stick Falls heavily Trainee soldier WH___, poet 6 letters ___ in, took advantage Ice‑cream dessert Move upwards Resulted in Searched 7 letters Diverted to another track Possessed by ghosts Sang using just one note Telephone Treble accompaniment 8 letters Plucked away quickly

by websudoku.com

7 4

3 2

3 9 6 1 5 7 6 3 4 5 1 3 5 8 2 9 6

Puzzle by websudoku.com

Solutions CROSSWORD PAGE 45 ACROSS 1 False pretences 10 Lycra 11 Radiology 12 Ocarina 13 En garde 14 Eagle 16 Impetuous 19 Gallivant 20 Dated 22 Routers 25 Octopus 27 Espionage 28 Tokyo 29 Aggrandisement

DOWN 2 Archangel 3 Stasi 4 Per capita 5 Eddie 6 Elongated 7 Choir 8 Shyness 9 Al Gore 15 Emile Zola 17 Pathogens 18 Outspoken 19 Gerbera 21 Despot 23 Unpeg 24 Shard 26 Totem

20 QUESTIONS PAGE 9 1 Betty White 2 Atlas 3 c) 32 4 Kansas, USA 5 Underground and underfund 6 Quetzal 7 South Australia 8 Decision Review System 9 Tiger 10 Nu and Xi 11 ‘J ohnny B Goode’ 12 Decimal currency 13 Wrestling 14 Adelaide 15 Jakara Anthony 16 Polly 17 True 18 Kevin Bacon 19 Kazakhstan 20 Bees

18 FEB 2022

Using all 9 letters provided, can you answer these clues? Every answer must include the central letter. Plus, which word uses all 9 letters?

by puzzler.com

Word Builder

It goes without saying that we owe a lot to our nurses. Eight hundred years ago, though, their job would have had nothing to do with sick or injured people. In the 1200s, a norice or norce would care for someone else’s newborn baby, including breastfeeding it. This sense of the word lives on in nursery “a place where babies (or young plants) are cared for”; nourish “provide with food”; and nurture “help something to grow”. (The eagle-eyed will have noticed that nutrition also looks a bit like these words, and you’d be right. It shares the same linguistic grandparent: the Latin nutrire.) It wasn’t until the 16th century that nurse took on the meaning we know today. So, if you meet a nurse, give them your thanks… but maybe not your indoor plant collection.

by Chris Black

Quick Clues

THE ANSWERS FOR THE CRYPTIC AND QUICK CLUES ARE THE SAME. ANSWERS PAGE 43.

9 10

Cryptic Clues DOWN

1 Sham doctor fleeces parents (5,9) 10 Supply crates full of fabric (5) 11 Train daily, or go for medical discipline (9) 12 Instrument to repair short raincoat (7) 13 Get ready to throw grenade (2,5) 14 Texan golfer regularly gets two under par (5) 16 Reckless American followed alien into illegal

2 Carl ignores captain to grab cash with Michael

opium (9)

worker (9)

20 Saw out (5) 22 Networkers start unwinding in fancy resort?

(7)

25 One heavily armed criminal outs cop? (7) 27 Sea pigeon trained for intelligence gathering

(9)

28 Also toured Kentucky’s capital city (5) 29 Tailor a garment design for growth (14)

DOWN

2 Heavenly being (9) 3 East German secret police (5) 4 For each person (3,6) 5 Mabo, for example (5) 6 Stretched out (9) 7 Singing group (5) 8 Introversion (7) 9 Former US vice president (2,4) 15 French novelist (5,4) 17 Viruses (9) 18 Direct (9) 19 Flowering plant (7) 21 Dictator (6) 23 Release (5) 24 Broken piece (5) 26 Emblem (5)

Solutions

ACROSS

19 Jaunt around village cut short by social

ACROSS

1 Deceptive behaviour (5,9) 10 Stretch material (5) 11 Medical discipline (9) 12 Egg-shaped instrument (7) 13 Fencing term (2,5) 14 Bird of prey (5) 16 Rash (9) 19 Wander (9) 20 Old fashioned (5) 22 Networking devices (7) 25 Sea creature (7) 27 Spying (9) 28 Japanese capital (5) 29 Increase (14)

perhaps? (9) Secret police in Southeast Asia (5) Designed pirate cap for each person (3,6) McGuire’s journalist pass (5) Extended, nasty delegation – I quit! (9) Chief Health Officer ignores both sides to hire singers (5) 8 Reserve hotel in Sandy Head? (7) 9 Irritated glare takes in old vice president (2,4) 15 Excitedly email Zoe about novice French writer (5,4) 17 Viruses have gone astray in tracks (9) 18 Frank dismissed over the phone, not in writing? (9) 19 Reg flipped, tamed bear with flower (7) 21 Lady Macbeth’s failed desire to make tyrant? (6) 23 One French pledge oddly open (5) 24 Piece penned by Thomas Hardy (5) 26 Tom grabbed the empty emblem (5) 3 4 5 6 7

SUDOKU PAGE 43

9 1 5 8 2 7 6 4 3

8 3 6 5 4 9 7 1 2

2 4 7 3 1 6 5 9 8

7 9 1 2 5 3 8 6 4

6 5 8 9 7 4 2 3 1

4 2 3 1 6 8 9 7 5

1 6 2 7 3 5 4 8 9

3 7 9 4 8 2 1 5 6

5 8 4 6 9 1 3 2 7

Puzzle by websudoku.com

WORD BUILDER PAGE 43 5 Tuned Caned Thuds Cadet Auden 6 Cashed Sundae Ascend Caused Hunted 7 Shunted Haunted Chanted Handset Descant 8 Snatched 9 Unscathed

18 FEB 2022

Crossword

Click 1972 SUPER BOWL

Ella Fitzgerald

words by Michael Epis photo by Getty

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

ong before Dr Dre, Snoop Dogg and Mary J Blige concocted their beats and flows, it was jazz chanteuse Ella Fitzgerald who reigned over half-time at the NFL Super Bowl, which itself reigns as the premier entertainment moment across the known universe (and the unknown ones too I suppose). That’s so, even if the NFL does not pay the performers – and it’s perhaps the only occasion when “the exposure” really is worth it. Before Ella arrived – accompanied by trumpet legend Al Hirt – at Super Bowl VI (the Roman numerals make the whole thing more important) in 1972, the half-time show was largely the preserve of marching bands and the like, charmingly provincial, much in the fashion of the half-time sprint that so enthrals AFL crowds at their grand finals, even if taxi drivers and suburban footballers have been participants in recent years. Super Bowl VI was contested by the Dallas Cowboys and the Miami Dolphins in New Orleans. The Big Easy is a warm city, but, despite the sunshine, 1972 remains the coldest Super Bowl played outdoors (4°C), which perhaps explains Ella’s fur coat. Even though it’s played in winter, it has rained hard only once at the Super Bowl – in Miami

2007, the year Prince played, the highlight being ‘Purple Rain’. Could Prince really just make it rain on command? New Orleans, of course, is the home of jazz, and it elected to use the half-time break to honour its favourite son, trumpeter Louis Armstrong, who had not long died. Who better to perform said duties than The First Lady of Song, Ella Fitzgerald, who recorded three landmark albums with Armstrong in the 1950s? Ella performed ‘Mack the Knife’, and fellow jazz singer Carol Channing sang the city’s unofficial anthem, ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’. Sadly, remarkably, no tape exists. Jazz at the time remained mainstream, and it featured in several more 1970s Super Bowls, but it’s hard to imagine any jazz artist getting a gig these days. For the record, the Cowboys beat the Dolphins 24-3 back in 1972, despite the latter receiving advice from President Richard Nixon, a big gridiron fan, who called coach Don Shula, supposedly at 1.30am, to suggest a play, involving a pass to key offensive player Paul Warfield. Nixon had done the same thing the week before with the Washington Redskins coach. Shula instructed his team to execute Nixon’s suggestion, but it flubbed.

18 FEB 2022

The Big Issue Australia #655 – Bon Jovi

Articles inside

Click

Music Reviews

Book Reviews

Public Service Announcement

Small Screen Reviews

My Word

Meet Your Vendor

Film Reviews

Streetsheet

Ed’s Letter & Your Say

Hearsay & 20 Questions

Ricky

Fiona