The Big Issue Australia #639 – Guy Pearce by The Big Issue Australia

Ed.

639 25 JUN 2021

16.

THE SOUND OF 1991

28.

JULIE DELPY

30.

and ALICE PUNG

THE MAKING OF AN ALL -ROUND GO OD GUY

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NATIONAL OFFICE Chief Executive Officer Steven Persson Chief Financial Officer Jon Whitehead Chief Operating Officer Chris Enright National Communications and Partnerships Manager Steph Say National Operations Manager Jeremy Urquhart EDITORIAL Editor Amy Hetherington Deputy Editor Melissa Fulton Contributing Editor Michael Epis Contributing Editor Anastasia Safioleas Editorial Coordinator Lorraine Pink Art Direction & Design GOZER (gozer.com.au) CONTRIBUTORS

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Contents

EDITION

639

16 The Year My Voice Broke It was the best and worst year to form a rock band, writes Paul Mitchell. It was 1991: the greatest year in music history.

28 FILM

Mother of All Dilemmas French actor-writerdirector Julie Delpy explores the boundless limits of parental love in her new film, the sci-fi drama My Zoe.

12.

30 ‘I Was Anti-Social’

BOOKS

by Anastasia Safioleas

From Neighbours to Priscilla to Jack Irish, Guy Pearce is an Australian screen icon. In his Letter to My Younger Self, he talks teenage bodybuilding, finding his chutzpah, and how his mum taught him about cutting the bullshit.

THE REGULARS

04 Ed’s Letter & Your Say 05 Meet Your Vendor 06 Streetsheet 08 Hearsay & 20 Questions 11 My Word 20 The Big Picture

25 Fiona 27 Ricky 34 Film Reviews 35 Small Screen Reviews 36 Music Reviews 37 Book Reviews

39 Public Service Announcement 40 Tastes Like Home 43 Puzzles 45 Crossword 46 Click

Counting the Days One hundred, all told. Alice Pung explores the mother‑daughter relationship across three generations in her new novel – her first for adults.

Ed’s Letter

by Amy Hetherington Editor @amyhetherington

Forever Young

LETTER OF THE FORTNIGHT

e have Neighbours to thank for my wonderful sister‑in-law Jo. You see, growing up a wee lassie in a flat in Glasgow, she fell for the Ramsay Street lifestyle: a backyard, sunshine, after-school milkshakes from Lassiter’s. So when she finished uni, she packed her bag and headed to Melbourne – where she met my brother, Scott, to her Charlene. Back in the mid-80s the Neighbours juggernaut also claimed another mega‑fan: Kate Winslet, who would rush home from school each lunchtime to watch our cover star Guy Pearce, as Mike Young, in daily reruns of the soap. “He was not one of my crushes, he was the only one I ever had,” Winslet

told Vogue Australia. “We have the same birthday, October 5, which I have known since I was 11, when I read it in the teen fanzine at my friend’s house.” Cut to 2020, upstate New York, and Winslet’s 11-year-old self would be in raptures to learn she is stuck living in COVID lockdown alongside the Geelong-born star while filming this year’s must-watch series Mare of Easttown. “I would cook for everyone, and I’d literally be washing Guy’s underpants,” she told Vogue. Okay, so her pre-teen self might not be quite so impressed with that detail! But she would’ve loved Pearce’s honest, open Letter to My Younger Self interview in this edition, as he returns to Australian TV for the final season of Jack Irish. And also the fact that with this neighbour she did indeed become good friends.

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The Big Issue Story

Your Say

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.

• Our Women’s Subscription Enterprise provides employment and training for women through the sale of magazine subscriptions as well as social procurement work.

Adelaide’s streets were full of life as I ventured out. I had a game plan for where I needed to be – then I saw Mark selling The Big Issue on Grenfell Street and I stopped to say hello. I found out Mark had written for Ed#638. As an ad hoc writer myself, I am always encouraged when I see other people in print. Keep writing Mark! We need more real-life stories. Congratulations are in order to everyone in The Big Issue family. Twenty-five years of helping others help themselves is a sterling achievement, and here’s to the next 25. JENNY ESOTS WILLUNGA I SA

I’ve just read the Public Service Announcement in Ed#637, and what a wonderful, beautiful piece of writing. I do like thanking those that make my day brighter, and this is a reminder of why it’s important, and why I should do it more! This article has reminded me of the good things in life. How small these nice gestures can be, and how bright the world is as a result. Today, I’ll be acknowledging Lorin Clarke. I’ll be taking this page and keeping it in my “good things” bucket. Thank you Big Issue for continuing to be such an amazing force for good, and producing these insightful articles every edition. ANNA COTTEE QUEENSCLIFF I NSW

• 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

Jenny wins a copy of Alice Pung’s new novel One Hundred Days. Read our interview with the author on p30. We’d also love to hear your thoughts, feedback and suggestions: SUBMISSIONS@BIGISSUE.ORG.AU

YOUR SAY SUBMISSIONS MAY BE EDITED FOR CLARITY AND SPACE.

Meet Your Vendor

interview by Rebecca Dempsey photo by Nat Rogers

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25 JUN 2021

SELLS THE BIG ISSUE AT CENTRAL MARKETS AND ZUMA CAFFE, ADELAIDE

Debbie H

Before I started selling the magazine, I went to Port Pirie to find my life again and get things right again. In that time some serious and personal things happened, and my mum passed away. I was trying to find ways to go back to work but it’s hard when you get to a certain age and with certain illnesses I’ve got, like diabetes and all that – other jobs go by time and schedules – it’s hard to find the right job. I found I was trying to apply for jobs and I wasn’t getting any luck, so I thought Why don’t I ring and try The Big Issue? I made sales the first day! It felt good, like something I could do, and the idea of making people happy felt good. My grandchildren mean the world to me. I had my first daughter at 19, then I lost a baby the same year I got married. I called him Sean, and I always wondered what he’d be like. Then I had my other daughter and she had the cord around her neck at birth – we had to go to Flinders on the plane. She was born on the 23rd and on the 30th I got to hold her. When I was in hospital a miracle happened and it was something that changed me: it changed how I feel about things that come alright. She is doing well today. And I had my son after that and he’s done very well in his life, a nice little family. Art is the one thing I use when I need to get my mind off things. I like painting, pottery, making things. I even had an idea that with all the flowers my children give me as gifts, to put them all together and do some kind of art, so I don’t have to throw them away. The idea of throwing away what my children give me doesn’t make me feel good. Now that I’ve paid some things off I want to save for a nice holiday. It might be to England or Holland – they are places I have always wanted to see. In Holland I like the windmills and clog shoes and costumes. In England I like the old churches and old buildings. I’ll use this time to save and one day I will get there. I loved Lady Diana and all the royals; she was my favourite. I like to dress neat and tidy like her. She was nice and kind naturally. I feel I am a bit like that; it isn’t hard to be. The Big Issue has helped my confidence. I got asked to go in the International Women’s Day edition with Jane Fonda on the cover and my picture was in it; the photo is on my fridge. When The Big Issue came out of lockdown I was on the Channel 10 news – I talked to the weather lady. The Big Issue has opened me up more. It’s made me see I can do well, and I can get a job.

Streetsheet

Stories, poems and pictures by Big Issue vendors and friends

Goosebumps!

ne of my best parts of each fortnight is working with my daughter selling The Big Issue. I could not believe it: she had her profile photo in the magazine! I had goosebumps LOL. Since Nakita has started working with The Big Issue she has done an amazing job. I’m very proud of her. I like to encourage her so she can do well for herself. Nakita hasn’t had it easy, neither have I. We both work as a team to try to make money. We love what we do. We try to make a difference in our lives, and also raise awareness of homelessness. Us girls, we are strong in ourselves. There are sometimes situations we have problems with on the streets while selling The Big Issue, which isn’t easy. We never back down, we keep moving on, doing our best. I would like to say a big thanks to Andrew, Chad, Pia and Simon, who work in our WA office, and who are always there for us vendors when we need to reach out to them. Also, a big thanks to everyone who purchases the magazine from our vendors nationally (especially from Nakita and I!).

MOTH ER -D AU GH TE R DU O: JA CK IE AN D NA KI TA

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JACKIE G WELLINGTON ST OVERPASS & HAY ST I PERTH

Hey, I Bought a Car

A Whole Latte Love

Selling The Big Issue has helped me to buy the car I currently have. It helped me save money to buy the car I wanted. Having the car has made a huge difference. I can help both my parents by taking them to appointments and to be available if I need to help. It also helps my isolation.

It’s been a great opportunity, selling The Big Issue for the past 10 years – it will keep you going. A very big thank you to all my customers out there. Thank you, Hungry Jack’s in William Street, for my free coffee nearly every day to start my day beautiful and positive. Thank you!

LUCEIL WATSON SHOPS I CANBERRA

RON E WESTPAC, ST GEORGES TERRACE I PERTH

Absolute Buzz

Hello!

I enjoy selling The Big Issue, especially at Christmastime last year – it was an absolute buzz! Enjoy smiling at people – “Hi! Hello! How are you today?” My first day was magic. I really enjoyed myself, alongside my friend Maura, who is a vendor, a workmate and my flatmate. She’s fantastic. And so is an ongoing great income.

My favourite customer moments selling The Big Issue are talking to people and saying “hello”. I’m proud to be a Big Issue vendor. My favourite memory is from a couple years back while selling in Melbourne. It was in September, and I was selling 15 to 16 in one day – I made my record in sales for one day! I’ve been staying in Sydney for four months now. I miss my friends in Melbourne so much,

JENNY LEEDERVILLE I PERTH

and miss my family. I like travelling around Australia. Recently I’ve liked travelling to the outback, NSW North Coast and Central West. I recently travelled to Brisbane for four days and worked there as a vendor. ANDREW C PITT ST MALL I SYDNEY

Personal Trainers My favourite Big Issue memory was a time when I was working the Artisan Cafe pitch and a customer saw my old worn-out sneakers. She wanted to buy me a new pair of sneakers. Instead, she gave me an envelope with a cheque for $300! Working for The Big Issue gets me out meeting people. The Big Issue helps so many people. My favourite customer chases me! She takes an interest in me and my sales. She also gets her friends and family to buy mags! KELVIN TOPHAM MALL , ARTISAN CAFE I ADELAIDE

I Love It I love The Big Issue I believe its cause! To help the underprivileged To help the poor To help the homeless To help the mentally ill To help the disabled I love all the people who I’ve met through working for The Big Issue People like Grandma, who says the funniest things but really has a sad hard life. She became my grandma the day I lost my real grandmother. Or the jeweller who when asked will give me $20 straight up without expecting back. Or John in the Tatts place who allows me to book up smokes, a can of Coke and a Mars bar when I need it. Or the tram driver who never buys the mag, but will give me $20 because he appreciates we are trying to make a living. Or my $50 man who always asks me how I am and how’s my husband and how’s my life! He always looks after me, dresses beautifully, never asks anything of me but shows great concern for my husband and I. I love the people I’ve met through doing this job. It’s hard competing with all the beggars and buskers and people that now use only cards and not cash. It’s hard now with winter here, people just walk by without even so much as a smile or hello. Street life is hard, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I have met some incredible people, like Pat and Sam and her church friends who come to the market and give out coffee and bread rolls and chocolates and clothing and food. Or the young ladies who come on Saturday and are an inspiration of faith, hope and charity, who made a sweater to give to those on the streets, created in honour of me!

LU KE HA HO RS IN G ARD FU N OU VI CTOR HA ND IN RB OR

Camp Was Fun I’ve just come back from church summer camp down at Victor Harbor. I drove down there with my friends. Camp is all week, but I stayed for two nights so I took the bus back home. In the mornings we had service and, in the afternoons, I had coffee with my friends and got to ride on The Cockle Train that goes from Victor Harbor to Goolwa. I’m a train enthusiast, so I was looking forward to it. The Cockle is a SteamRanger, which is one of the bigger trains of all the ranges and is often run by a smaller steam or diesel train. I go to the Northwestern Church of Christ and they have helped me through harder times. So, having a coffee with my church friends was really nice too. I had a good time. LUKE JAMES PLACE I ADELAIDE

I love my life on the streets of Melbourne.

SHARON COLLINS & SWANSTON STS I MELBOURNE

25 JUN 2021

Good luck. God bless you.

ALL VENDOR CONTRIBUTORS TO STREETSHEET ARE PAID FOR THEIR WORK.

Thank you one and all of you.

Hearsay

Andrew Weldon Cartoonist

“

I remember hiding very nervously under the bed, because I didn’t want to get taken away. So I think that’s why losing a match never really bothered me… Every time a shiny car would come down the road, my mum used to say, ‘You better run and hide, the welfare man’s going to take you away.’

Tennis legend Evonne Goolagong Cawley, who narrowly escaped becoming a member of the Stolen Generations. Between 1910 and 1970, between one in three and one in 10 Indigenous children were taken from their families. THE GUARDIAN I AU

“I lived behind the Iron Curtain. You really think you are going to be able to tell me to keep my mouth shut?” Martina Navratilova – another tennis legend – on why she continues to court controversy on social media.

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THE NEW YORK TIMES I US

“Power’s out, walking around with candles, phones are flat... living the dream.” Andrew Fell surveying the damage to his house in Croydon, hit hard by the devastating storms that toppled trees, fouled water supplies and cut power and communication to the Dandenongs, Macedon Ranges and parts of Gippsland, Victoria. 9 NEWS I AU

“We live in a society that is designed for morning people, and evening people often feel as if they are in a constant state

of misalignment with that societal clock.” Iyas Daghlas, MD, on a study investigating the link between sleeping patterns and depression. It found that people who are early risers are less prone to depression – and for everyone else, going to bed an hour earlier than usual decreases your chance of depression by 23 per cent. Two hours earlier means a 40 per cent decrease. SCIENCE DAILY I US

“When I moved there from the mainland, the water was the sweetest water I’d ever tasted, but it was terribly dirty because of all the old pipes. [Today, we are] celebrating having the world’s best drop straight from a tap.” Northern Midlands Council Mayor Mary Knowles, one of the 50 residents of Rossarden, Tasmania, responding to the news that a tap‑water contest in the US has judged their drinking

water to be the finest in the world. Only a few years ago town residents were issued a health warning about the water, contaminated by mining. ABC I AU

“Prince William, I feel that fucking lad’s pain. He’s got a fucking younger brother shooting his fucking mouth off with shit that is just so unnecessary. I’d like to think I was always the William.” Noel Gallagher, formerly the guitarist for Oasis, on the royal family. Noel has been known to diss his younger brother, Liam. NME I UK

“An elephant uses its trunk like a Swiss Army Knife. It can detect scents and grab things. Other times it blows objects away like a leaf blower or sniffs them in like a vacuum.” David Hu, from the Georgia Institute of Technology, on research into how elephants use their trunks – which are also capable of storing nine litres of water, for a non-rainy day. SCIENCE DAILY I US

“It’s incredibly gratifying and free to be using characters that are considered villains, because you just have so much more leeway. A perfect example of that is in this third season of Harley we had a moment where Batman was going down on Catwoman. And DC was like, ‘You can’t do that. You absolutely cannot do that.’ They’re like, ‘Heroes don’t do that.’ So, we said, ‘Are you saying heroes are just selfish lovers?’ They were like, ‘No, it’s that we sell consumer toys for heroes. It’s hard to sell a toy if Batman is also going down on someone.’” Justin Halpern, one of the co-creators of animated show Harley Quinn, on all the fun you can have when your heroes are bad guys. VARIETY I US

20 Questions by Rachael Wallace

01 At what sporting event did the first-

ever use of a whistle by a referee take place? 02 Which US city is one of the six sister

cities of Darwin? 03 What ice cream is made up of

strawberry, vanilla and chocolate? 04 Major Roger Healey was a character

in which TV series? 05 Which animal’s name is literally

translated as “river horse” in Greek? 06 What is the largest desert in

Australia? 07 In addition to starring in Mare of

Easttown, what behind-the-scenes role does Kate Winslet have on the show? 08 Electronic musical duo Daft Punk

hail from which country? 09 What is the name of the bar in New

THE GUARDIAN I AU

“I’ve never understood why humans feel we have the right to take over everything. It’s great that rewilding is not only bringing animals, but like-minded people together.” Fashion designer Stella McCartney, whose label has not used fur or leather for decades – saving the lives of at least 400,000 cows from her million-seller Falabella bags alone, which are totally vegan. VOGUE I AU

THE AGE I AU

“There are ambulances up here at least four times a week… It [the renovation] hasn’t affected the monuments. They’re still as impressive as ever and for the first time people can enjoy them without always fearing they’re about to fall.” Parthenon tour guide Athina Pitaki,

“Even though it was in Swedish, I heard ‘President Donald Trump’ and ‘A$AP Rocky,’ and I woke up out of my sleep. I was like, ‘Oh, fuck!’” Rapper A$AP Rocky on the moment he learned the former US president was leading the #FreeRocky movement to release him from Swedish jail – stat. GQ I US

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York largely associated with the inception of gay rights in the US? 10 “My Very Educated Mother Just

Served Us Noodles” is a mnemonic designed to help people remember what? 11 Where was the first State of Origin

match played in the 2021 NRL competition? 12 Fufu is a popular food on which

continent? 13 In 2019, what was the leading cause

of death in Australia? 14 What is the longest-running musical

in Broadway history? 15 How many minutes did Neil

Armstrong spend alone on the moon before Buzz Aldrin joined him? 16 When facing forwards on a ship,

what word refers to its left side? 17 What word is Arthur Stace famous

for writing on Sydney footpaths? 18 Who is the French athlete once

considered to be Cathy Freeman’s greatest rival? 19 True or false? Hummingbirds

are the only birds that can fly backwards. 20 What is the name of Prince Harry

and Meghan Markle’s newborn daughter?

ANSWERS ON PAGE 43

25 JUN 2021

on controversial changes to the Greek architectural attraction, including concreted walkways and a lift for disabled people.

“How on earth can I offer up Dad, doing a quiz: “Which evidence for Australian desert is named after a singer?” something Mum: “Little Desert? Could where there is be after Jimmy Little.” no evidence? Dad: “Peach Melba is the I don’t know answer.” how the world Mum: “You mean dessert!” has come to Overheard by Stacey in Lara, Vic. this, constantly pouring filth on an innocent scientist.” Shi Zhengli, the Chinese virologist who runs the famous Wuhan laboratory, on more demands from the West for the laboratory to prove that it was not the place where COVID-19 originated. That’s the thanks you get if you spend your life fighting viruses. EAR2GROUND

My Word

by Sinéad Stubbins @sineadstubbins

have always loved throwing dinner parties – or more accurately, I have always loved throwing imaginary dinner parties in my mind, in which I am a perfect god-like human being in an apron, standing in front of an eclectic group of friends who are all applauding the pudding I just presented to them. I have never hosted a dinner party in real life. I’m not sure who to blame for this fantasy. It could be the fault of light-hearted American comedies, like those by filmmaker Nancy Meyers, in which rich people who don’t know they’re rich gather in cream-coloured kitchens adorned with copper pots and perfectly stacked mixing bowls, gossiping around a kitchen island about who’s going to get divorced next. In these kitchens, everything has a place. There is always a vase of fresh flowers on a nearby wooden table that you know in a few hours will be the site of a glamorous dinner party: one that you will never be able to replicate in real life. Instagram has added another layer to this, because it can sometimes feel as though everyone is hosting these kinds of dinner parties but you. You know the ones: everyone looks fabulous and they’re all wearing interesting earrings, gathered around a groaning table and drinking orange drinks. How do people take those overhead photos of their dinner table dishes, anyway? Does everyone around the table have to put their hands in their laps, wait and hold their breath until the host gets the shot? Does the host ever get scared that they’ll drop their phone into a bowl of soup? I had always thought that by my thirties, I would be throwing the sorts of parties where everyone is drinking tempranillo and saying thought-provoking things (perhaps pontificating about the ethics of religion in politics, or whether Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt will ever get back together), where the apartment is scented like linen and figs and is washed in warm light. It is the dead of winter and condensation creeps over the windows. Big wooden bowls of pasta materialise from nowhere and there are delicate salads of shaved pear. Somehow there is never a mess to clean up. Everyone is wearing white trousers.

But that hasn’t happened to me. I don’t think I’ve ever even attended a party like that in real life. Hosting a dinner party seems to require a lot of careful planning to make things feel very effortless. Should you already have music playing when people arrive and just pretend you always have Fleetwood Mac going in the kitchen at 6pm? Should you already have a wine in your hand? Is that desperate? At what time do you light the scented candle? Do I have enough toilet paper stacked up in the bathroom? How much toilet paper is too much – suggesting you predict upcoming gastrointestinal upset? I don’t have the right wine glasses, so I can’t invite people over anyway. The minute I wasn’t allowed to invite people over, though, it was all I could think about. As we descended into lockdown in Melbourne last winter – which would last much longer than anyone thought it would – I kept thinking about how it seemed a time of year specifically designed for dinner parties. People would arrive with cold red noses and you’d fling their coats over the backs of chairs or on your bed. You’d all gather in a cosy house where you could stay all night without having to worry about whether you’d be warm enough (pubs are always either too hot or too cold; I’m not sure of the scientific reason for this). In the brief break between lockdowns last year, a couple I knew invited people over to their house for a dinner party. We were all very excited, which I expressed by wearing a very impractical ruffled white shirt and high-waisted pants that were too tight for how much I planned to eat. It was obvious that the couple were excited too, because the meal they had cooked us was cheese fondue. It didn’t occur to any of us that eating communal dairy in a pandemic was a bad idea. At the time of writing this, I am in Melbourne lockdown 4.0. It was meant to last a week, but then the health officials thought yikes at about Day 6, so decided to prolong it. It has made me think about dinner parties. It has made me think that when the time comes that I can have visitors again, maybe I don’t need the matching glasses and expensive candles and white trousers. Maybe we can just get a pizza and sit on the floor and use paper towels for napkins. I think we’ll still have the orange drinks though.

Sinéad Stubbins is a writer and editor from Melbourne. Her debut book In My Defence, I Have No Defence is out now.

Sinéad Stubbins is planning the perfect dinner party, with orange drinks, Fleetwood Mac and just the right amount of toilet paper.

25 JUNE 2021

Strife of the Party

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PHOTO BY ROBY KLEIN/GETTY

Letter to My Younger Self

CE: PEAR G U Y N IN G IT OW

by Anastasia Safioleas Contributing Editor @anast

ixteen-year-old Guy was extremely buffed; he won the state junior bodybuilding competition at that age. He was quite fixated on bodybuilding as well as on other things like music and acting. What was really fascinating to me about bodybuilding was it was also really creative. The idea that you could shape your body, like you were doing sculpture. And, of course, my ego was involved but I probably didn’t realise it at the time. I was doing it secretly, nobody at school knew about it, then I’d run out on the football field with a sleeveless top on and people would be like “Oh my God, where did you get those arms?!” I was anti-social. I could socialise but it took a lot of energy from me, and any sport or any activity that I could do on my own was much easier. I loved playing football, tennis, fencing, jujitsu – things where all my energy got to be about what I was doing rather than having to work well with other

people. I’ve often found that in social situations, particularly when I was younger, I’d have to take myself outside for a minute just to catch my breath. I would be shocked if I was faced with my 16-yearold self now and saw how much of a high frequency he vibrates on. It was just me, my mum and my sister Tracy. My mum taught at a girls’ high school. She was the home economics and needlework teacher. My dad died when I was eight. He was killed in an accident. It was very dramatic and very quick and sudden and shocking. I remember Mum telling me that it had happened and then I don’t really remember anything after that. I don’t think I realised until later in life the effect it had on me. I think part of my anxiety was connected to losing my dad. Also, I have a sister with an intellectual disability, and I felt quite a big responsibility to help Mum with her. That’s a lot for an eightyear-old boy to take on, so I think the feelings of responsibility didn’t allow me to just relax and be a kid and be social and hang out with other kids. It was like my mind was somewhere else and it felt like socialising was all a bit fake. I didn’t know how to do it naturally. I was always really obsessed with certain girls, but I never ever had the courage to put the hard word on anybody. Never. I would only be with somebody if they approached me. I was a pretty young boy so there were girls who would go, “You sure you don’t want to come out with me for dinner?” And I would go “Okay.” I don’t have the chutzpah to lean forward and say, “Hey babe, how about me?” That’s not who I am. I would end up

Before Jack Irish, before Easttown, Guy Pearce was a boy from Erinsborough. He talks fatherhood, fame and overcoming his fears.

25 JUN 2021

S A W I “ I T N A L A I C SO

THE NEW SEASON OF JACK IRISH IS SCREENING NOW ON ABC AND ABC IVIEW. MARE OF EASTTOWN IS NOW ON BINGE.

25 JUN 2021

TOP: GUY PEARCE COPS A KISS AS MIKE YOUNG IN NEIGHBOURS MIDDLE: PEARCE IN PRISCILLA, QUEEN OF THE DESERT BOTTOM: AS JACK IRISH, WITH CAM (AARON PEDERSEN)

I’ve been really lucky with work my whole life. From the moment I started looking for work when I was 18, I haven’t stopped. I look at Memento and Priscilla, Queen of the Desert and go, how lucky am I? I never take any of it for granted. I really am appreciative of every new job that I get. And I feel that holds me in good stead. And clearly, I’ve got some talent to be able to keep doing it. But I do go, wow, I’m really lucky that I’ve had the opportunities that I’ve had. What’s so strange and special about my job is you can actually go back and watch something again. I can go and look at my 29-year-old self. And when Monte’s older he could be flicking through the TV and something comes on and he goes, “Oh my God, there’s Dad! Look how young he looks!” If I could offer some advice to my 16-year-old self I would tell him to slow down. Have some faith in yourself and know what it is that you want to do. Do it one step at a time and know there’s something valid in it. I always felt that everything I did was a sort of sneaky escape from what everyone else was doing and that it really wasn’t valid, but for some reason I was really driven to do it. But I was desperately afraid that someone would ask me about it. Desperately afraid that someone at school would ask me about the acting or the bodybuilding. And if anyone was ever cynical about what I did or who I am, I would crumble. I’d absolutely crumble. I’d go, “No, you’re right! I shouldn’t be doing this! I’ll stop!” Everybody else had power over me always. And it’s still a test and a challenge for me today. If a hundred people came and saw a film I’d done and one person didn’t think it was that great, that’s the person I’d focus on. Now I’m a whole lot better at going “That’s your opinion and that’s fine.” At the same time, I didn’t really think I deserved to have any praise. I didn’t want any praise. I didn’t want any attention. I just wanted to do what I was doing and not have any focus on it. And it wasn’t until I started going to therapy 25 years ago that I got much better at owning what I do. So, I would go back and tell my younger self to own and be proud of what I could do and what I wanted to do.

PHOTO BYMOVIESTILLS IMDB, ABC

with girlfriends and be in it for the long haul. I wasn’t flipping from one person to the next cos I just don’t get that. The biggest surprise of my life was when I landed the role on Neighbours. I was 18 and I’d been doing a lot of theatre… I know that probably contradicts some of what I’d said about being anti-social, but getting to perform on stage when I was younger was a great escape for me. It was fantastic and I loved singing. I’d been told by my high school drama teacher that a lot of actors are out of work a lot of the time. I’d been told all that stuff and then within two weeks of heading up to Melbourne and going to meet agents I was offered a role on Neighbours. That was such a bizarre shock to me. Obviously losing Dad was a massive shock. And then when I started to work in America – that was a pretty big, surprising thing too. And then when my wife left in 2015. That was a pretty massive shock as well. There’s been a few big ones along the way. But I think the biggest surprise of all is my son. Having helped raise my sister, I had no desire to have children. I really didn’t. I was like, “I’m done raising a child. I’ve done it my whole life.” So when [my partner] Carice [van Houten] and I had Monte… I still can’t really believe that I actually have a child! It’s like a really slow shock. Don’t get me wrong, I love him beyond belief. But the idea that he is actually my son still surprises me sometimes. The biggest challenge in my life is probably my own anxiety. To be present and not have head noise dictate the situation. In a way, having Monte is forcing me to be patient. It’s forcing me to listen more, and to be in the moment, and that’s wonderful. But that’s probably been the biggest challenge. And being social, it’s wrapped up together really. The biggest life lesson I’ve learned from my mum is about being straight up and cutting the bullshit. My mum cannot stand anyone who’s trying to pull the wool over our eyes. If anyone’s trying anything, Mum literally would put her hand up and go “urgh” and turn the other way. I totally get where it comes from. I get that she just doesn’t have time for games. And in a way, that’s been a bit hard for me, to try and therefore just play games with my four-and-a-half-year-old son. That’s a bit of a new thing for me, so my son is teaching me to be more playful. Whereas my mum was like, “There’s no time in the world for games; just get on with it.”

Paul Mitchell is a Melbourne writer. His latest book is a collection of essays, Matters of Life and Faith. @prmitcho

t wasn’t quite Dickensian, but Geelong in the recession of 1991 was the best and worst time to form a rock band. Best because you couldn’t get a job and there was nothing else to do, and worst because bands all over the world kept reinventing rock. After uni and share house rites of passage in Melbourne, I’d moved back to Sleepy Hollow. Paul Keating’s recession was in full dip and Geelong’s Pyramid Building Society had collapsed, deepening the downturn. There was barely enough underemployment to go round, but that didn’t matter. I’d finished my journalism degree and I was ready, with my Bono‑esque singing and lyrics, to form a band and save the world. Work was just a means to noodles and cabbage, so I was happy enough with just a few hours a week. The rest of the time I spent in a one‑bedroom flat I shared with my girlfriend, trying to speed-learn guitar. I’d been at it a year because I’d realised that, even though my voice would make me the next Bono, it’d help if I added some music to my as-yet-unformed band. My girlfriend did her best to avoid my band mania, insisting on headphones when I tried to learn electric guitar, but one day she mentioned something to one of her classmates at uni. His name was Andrew and he played guitar. “My boyfriend’s a…singer,” she allowed. “And he wants to form a band.” Woo-hoo!

The greatest year in rock history was 1991. Anyone who says otherwise wasn’t 22 and forming a band. Alternative rock took over the charts. It was the best time to be hearing new and exciting sounds – and the worst to be trying to sort out your band’s sound. Rock music’s direction changed monthly, and every new song we wrote sounded like the latest track by the next big thing in rock: Nirvana, Primal Scream, Soundgarden, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Pearl Jam, Pixies and Dinosaur Jr all released albums in 91 that hammered rock into new shapes. We called ourselves Tall Planet because we were all at least six-foot in the old scale. The orange cover image Andrew made for our demo tape had a shadowy giant standing over a planet of screaming people. It was the best thing our band ever did. Andrew was the kindest bloke I’d met, and the second vegetarian. He was also an excellent rhythm guitarist, but Tall Planet’s make-up meant he had to play lead guitar, which he’d never done, while I did two things I’d never done either: publicly sing my potentially world-changing lyrics, and play the acoustic guitar, albeit arrhythmically. My musical heritage consisted of singing my team’s theme song in the clubrooms after a footy win, so it was lucky Andrew knew two other kind vegetarians. Drummer David was a blond-haired jack-in-the-box, influenced by the “Madchester” sound – he played at least a beat ahead. Bassist Martin, with hair down to his backside, was the only trained musician in the band. Influenced by Mudhoney, his melodic playing was, to be fair, better than our demo tape cover image. Andrew was inspired by some band I’d never heard of called Teenage Fanclub, and I was, of course, powered by Bono’s singing, lyrics and bombast. We were a group that sounded like four bands in one,

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music history.

illustration by Bradley Pinkerton

The Year My Voice Broke

For burgeoning rock star Paul Mitchell, 1991 was a planet‑shaking year in

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Our songs were the sonic equivalent of mushy eggplant, raw capsicum and stale olives.

the sonic equivalent of having all corners of a pizza quattro stagioni shoved in your mouth at once. And that was before the regular updates to our sound that resulted from the steady release of genre-busting, chart-topping 1991 classics. At first, it all seemed simple: REM released Out of Time in March and its blend of acoustic and electric instrumentation suited Tall Planet’s sound up to the sky. Andrew and I wrote our first song together soon after, ‘Sweet Something’, which included my brilliant lyrical play on the idea of whispering a sweet nothing to your partner: “Whisper to me/A sweet something you see/Something to make me feel alive.” You see what I did there? What a song! We thought it stacked up well beside REM’s ‘Shiny Happy People’ and ‘Losing My Religion’. We were onto something sweet alright and, even if our songs in rehearsal bored Martin stupid and drove David to an extra level of hyperactivity, Tall Planet soon played its first gig: in the bistro lounge of the Telegraph Hotel at the concrete end of Pakington Street, Geelong West. Our amps sat on dinner tables, and the crowd consisted of our girlfriends and some unfortunates at the bar who’d just finished their counter meals. I don’t know whether they stayed or left. I was too busy looking down at my guitar to make sure I was playing the right chords. For our next gig, we joined a battle of the bands comp in a pub somewhere in Geelong’s CBD on a Wednesday night. The band that came on after us, Deer Bubbles, had a woman for a lead singer and rhythm guitarist. As a prop, they had balloons all over the stage, and when they finished a song the lead singer popped one. When she told me her name after the show I couldn’t understand it, but I got to know it a few years later, when everyone had to learn to say Adalita from Magic Dirt. After placing second to Deer Bubbles, I used my old Belmont footy club network and got Tall Planet a gig at the famed Barwon Club Hotel. Doddsy ran the place and he and his family were Belmont legends. He’d let me drink there since… well, I’d enjoyed a few drinks there. Before we were set to play at the BC, Andrew rang me up one Tuesday night and said I had to go down with him and see a gig there, right now.

“Tex Perkins’ new band’s on tonight. And Kim Salmon and the Surrealists are supporting.” I had no idea who or what he was talking about. “Salmon was in The Scientists,” he added. There were a dozen people in the band room when we arrived, all were likely in the bands. Andrew pointed to a bloke with floppy hair and a beaten jacket, asleep on a couch. “That’s Kim Salmon,” he said. Not long after, Kim awoke and played a blistering set with the Surrealists that sounded like a disco-dancing power-saw operator fighting a drunkard with a jackhammer. Then he went back to sleep. A dark-haired man taller than every member of Tall Planet got on stage a half‑hour later, wearing a dark denim shirt. He was surrounded by blokes likewise shirted, one wearing a white cowboy hat. I was thrilled to see an acoustic guitar on a stand. Tall Planet were still onto something. “That’s Tex,” Andrew said, and I thought he meant the bloke with the white hat. The band started up a swaying, twanging, country surf-styled instrumental, while Tex held the mike stand, nodded and watched. The music was so good – and the sound so clear – I got the chills. Kim Salmon may even have woken up. When the singing started, The Cruel Sea sounded to my ears like the greatest band in rock history. The audience of about 15 agreed, whooping with delight, but Tex only engaged with the crowd once. At the end of a brilliant tune, a bloke down the back yelled out, “Go back to uni!” and the audience laughed. Tex simply gave the bloke the two-finger salute and the next song rumbled into gear. The Cruel Sea shook our sound up. And shook me up, personally. Tex Perkins had a deep, snarling voice and a tattoo – back when tattoos meant you liked booze and fighting, not man buns and making coffee. I tried to boom my voice, snarl it up – we gave my acoustic guitar some grunt through the PA with a distortion pedal. I didn’t know how to work it. Tall Planet effectively became Cruel Planet Pizza, mixed with David’s Happy Mondays drumming and Martin’s bass thumping, as he channelled some bass player called Krist Novoselic, who was in some band that had released an album called Bleach in 1989.

NIRVANA

Nevermind REM

Out of Time U2

Achtung Baby PRIMAL SCREAM

Screamadelica TEENAGE FANCLUB

Bandwagonesque RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS

Blood Sugar Sex Magik PEARL JAM

Ten PIXIES

Trompe Le Monde MY BLOODY VALENTINE

Loveless THE CRUEL SEA

This Is Not the Way Home BEASTS OF BOURBON

The Low Road DIED PRETTY

Doughboy Hollow HOLE

Pretty on the Inside DINOSAUR JR

Green Mind METALLICA

The Black Album SOUNDGARDEN

Badmotorfinger GUNS N’ ROSES

Use Your Illusion I and II MATTHEW SWEET

Girlfriend LENNY KRAVITZ

Mama Said

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A LIST OF EARTHSHATTERING ROCK ALBUMS THAT TALL PLANET DIDN’T RELEASE IN 1991

We should have disbanded on 24 September 1991. But, no, we pushed on, despite the fact that the Krist Novoselic bass player guy’s Nirvana had released Nevermind, and some LA crew called the Red Hot Chili Peppers had popped out Blood Sugar Sex Magik. Grunge and new-wave funk! Nevermind not only changed the rules, it said the rules had never existed. I couldn’t sing like Kurt Cobain. Our Dave couldn’t drum like their Dave. Who could bass like Krist? Martin, but, hey, he wasn’t in Seattle, he was in Tall Planet, with an acoustic guitarist singer now trying to be a cross between Tex, Kurt, Bono, Anthony Kiedis and Michael Stipe. Then, in November, U2 released Achtung Baby and Teenage Fanclub pushed out Bandwagonesque. Andrew and I realised how far our influences were travelling away from us – and how much more sleep we’d lose if Tall Planet kept drifting away from REM. We were losing our religion, losing our focus – and our sound had become the entire pizza menu. Except, of course, the salami and ham. “I think we should focus on sounding like Creedence,” Andrew said. And I kinda got what he was saying. Our sound was simple, like theirs. But our songs were…much simpler. And not catchy. Our songs were the sonic equivalent of mushy eggplant, raw capsicum and stale olives. I moved back to Melbourne and we even played some gigs there. Andrew got more serious about his study, so serious that, after one Melbourne gig, I’m sure he was playing the last riff from his car seat, desperate to get home. David’s girlfriend left him for someone else. It slowed his drumming, but I hated seeing him so downbeat. Martin expressed his interest in leaving the band, citing musical differences. “I don’t like Paul’s singing,” he said, putting his instrument into its case after one particularly poor rehearsal. Normally unflappable, Andrew blew up. Well, he said something: “Whoah, hey. That’s not very nice, Martin.” “But I don’t.” I was gutted. “I’m a singer. That’s what I do.” Martin gave me a smile and a look that said, “If that’s what you do, you better get a decent day job.” And so it comes to pass that I write, not sing, about 1991: the best and worst of times, but the greatest in rock history.

Get with it, Martin, this was 1991! The future of rock was now – and it was Tall. We played our gig at the BC and started off with ‘Sweet Something’ and ‘She’s Got Her Own Life’, a new song I’d pencilled with Andrew that featured my powerful, early twenty-something’s understanding of dependent relationships. We sounded good. So good that friends I’d known from uni started to move closer to the stage: Hey, yeah, Mitchell played footy and wrote a bit of poetry, but this Tall Planet mob could be onto something; they sound a bit like… Oh, shit – feedback suddenly blasted through the speakers, my acoustic buzzed and shook in my hands as I sang out of time and tune because I couldn’t hear myself through the wedges, and Martin, his bass slung low, laughed as the whole thing fell to bits. Ah, the live gig. In the next few months, two catastrophes hit: we couldn’t figure where else to get a gig in Geelong and, between August and November, international rock bands released albums that once again changed the course of Tall Planet. And rock history. First, Metallica’s self-titled black album with a single called ‘Enter Sandman’ – a metal song on the charts. “I think I’m going to buy my first-ever metal album,” Andrew told me. I went on a downer lower than an e-minor chord. What about my acoustic guitar? REM and sweet somethings? We had to get darker, heavier, but we didn’t own another guitar. So we just jacked up the distortion further. I wrote an apocalyptic song called ‘Final Curtain’ and another called ‘Who Shot His Heaven Down?’ We sounded like the Birthday Party meeting the Happy Mondays and slapping Bono in the face, the whole menagerie getting pushed off a cliff screaming, never to return. I wrote a song called ‘13’. It was about black cats and witches’ hats, bad luck and broken mirrors. The first part of the song was just me counting the song in, one to 13, in a jerky, post-punk rhythm. “My friend Mark would love this song,” Andrew said when we started rehearsing it. “We’ve got to play it with him sometime. He’s in a band called The Meanies.” I found out about The Meanies. They were biggish. We played ‘13’ at some house in Grovedale one afternoon with Mark, aka Ringo Meanie, on the drums.

series by Gabriele Galimberti

The Big Picture

In Riva del Garda, Italy, Remo Ballardini’s home pharmacy includes cough syrup and as-yetunused hair loss treatment.

Hard to Swallow

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From Haiti to Lithuania, Japan to Brazil, photographer Gabriele Galimberti’s Home Pharma project has seen him rummaging through medicine cabinets all around the world. by Chris Kennett @chriskennett

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

n almost every country in the Western world, hidden away in the corner of the bathroom or kitchen, pills, capsules and ointments pile up,” observes Italian photographer Gabriele Galimberti. There’s no question that the late-capitalist medicine cabinet overfloweth. Dozens of scripts are simply unfinished, stashed, forgotten. Only 23 per cent of us safely and correctly dispose of them at a pharmacy, according to a 2016 Griffith University study. In France alone, almost one medicine out of two will not be consumed. Meanwhile, developing countries continue to suffer from lack of access to the kinds of basic pharmaceuticals we take for granted. It’s a disparity Galimberti seeks to highlight in his series Home Pharma, an intimate look into the health of people around the world. “Whenever I meet people on my travels, I ask the same question: what’s in your medicine cabinet?” he says. “Home Pharma documents our relationship with medicines in the simplest terms possible.” Galimberti’s images of people in their homes with their medicines are tales of poverty, privilege and perseverance. The vital heart meds. The unused hair loss treatment. The garden-sourced remedies. The antipsychotics. Here, the relationship between people, their pills and their place in the world’s pecking order is on striking display. As Galimberti concludes, “Medicine is not just a mere commodity, but is a litmus test of the society we live in.” FOR MORE, VISIT GABRIELEGALIMBERTI.COM.

Ana Cristina and Leonardo de Andrade Bernardo with their children in their apartment in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. At night, they pull out another mattress from under the bed.

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In Port au Prince, Wholl-Lima Balthazan uses traditional Haitian medicine to cure herself, her mother and son, using leaves that can be found in local markets or provided by a Medsen Fey, a leaf doctor.

Noorjaha Sagri, Abbas Ali Sagri and their children live in a one-room flat in the Dharavi slum of Mumbai, India. Abbas Ali suffered a stroke and most of the medicines visible are his.

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Arunas Andriejauskas and Aliona Andriejauskaite, in Preila, Lithuania, forage for their own natural remedies and use essential oils instead of industrial pharmaceuticals.

In Tokyo, Japan, Yasumasa has a heart condition and takes multiple daily medicines, while Nobuko takes calcium against osteoporosis and aspirin for her heart.

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In Cahuita, Costa Rica, Michael Chamorro Suarez and Flor Parkindon Valla’s eldest son has been diagnosed with ADHD and prescribed the anti‑psychotic Risperdal. They haven’t administered it yet; they’re weighing it up.

by Fiona Scott-Norman @fscottnorman

PHOTO BY JAMES BRAUND

ccording to a mate on Facebook, your hip-hop name is the word “Lil” followed by the last thing you spent money on. Because I am a home owner now, my hip-hop name is Lil Arborist, which is kick-arse and way better than my second option, Lil Bottle of $6 Aldi Rosé. An arborist, for those not au fait with tree-related lingo, is a buff young man who wears a tight harness, and will scale and prune your oak for the bargain price of “insert multiple of a thousand dollars here”. I know this because I lined up quotes from three companies to tend to our unruly Quercus, and was legit attended by two Joshes and a Jack, all three cut from the same sandy tousle-haired cloth. All were also outdoorsy handsome and down for a long chat about sooty mould. I got the feeling that cloning could be further advanced than I realised, and that arborists must do very well on Tinder. Until recently a renter, this is my first tree-doctor rodeo. When you rent, trees are not part of your scope. You enjoy them if you have them, swear at the gall wasp if you have a lemon tree, and otherwise leave them be. This is the preferred option, because if you mention them to the landlord, even obliquely, they cut them down. This is due to the “insert multiple of a thousand dollars here” situation; as a breed landlords are keen on expedient, cheap, often brutal solutions. At my last house, the handyman’s name was Patch It Pete, because that’s what the owner, Joyce, always told him to do. With a problem tree, yes, chopping it down means fewer ongoing costs for the landlord, but also an unlovely, sterile and hot backyard for the renter. Climate change, people. What about some shade? One reason we bought our place was the trees. It’s leafy. A few palms aka possum hotels, a not-immediately-identifiable evergreen number that throws a righteous amount of shade and drops sap on our washing, and

a mighty oak up the back. Our garden is not large. You could argue the oak is too mighty. It’s about 40 years old, tall and full, overhangs two neighbours’ properties, shades our kitchen and the chook run, and rains acorns and leaves like an overzealous bridesmaid with a 20-kilo sack of rice. We love it, of course. An oak! How majestic! But she needs a prune to keep her from destroying the joint: some dead branches need to go, there’s a dispiriting case of sooty mould, and anyway, we’re Home Owners now. This is good husbandry. I waxed grandiloquently to a Josh about the duty of doing maintenance. Yes, I was internally justifying spending a couple of grand on a tree, but genuine as I burbled about being a custodian. It’s our job to take responsibility for our trees, and tend to them with love, right? The response was a sort of hollow “Ha!” Nine out of 10 jobs he quotes on, apparently, are to cut ’em down. “They just want trees gone.” Far out. It must make for a tough day in the office for Josh, Josh and Jack, presuming they trained as arborists because trees are rad, not because they dreamed of de-greening the city one housing development at a time. It’s the classic veterinarian trajectory: get into the field because you love pets, then spend your time euthanising them and with your arm up a cow’s sphincter. I get it. Trees cost money. They drop branches. Their thirsty roots can ruin our plumbing and paving. The bloody leaves, am I right? But we’re the ones concreting their habitat, so it’s just quid pro quo to maintain them kindly. They add so much. Grace. And they reduce carbon, cool our homes and gardens, provide habitat for birds and critters. They’re rad. Just ask a Josh.

Fiona is a writer and comedian with no axe to grind.

25 JUNE 2021

Take a Bough

An arborist, for those not au fait with tree-related lingo, is a buff young man who wears a tight harness, and will scale and prune your oak.

Fiona

by Ricky French @frenchricky

Not the Full Bottle was a bio terrorist intent on destroying their clean, green methane industry. A thoughtful “So that’s what happened to that banana…” didn’t save me from a $400 fine, which is why you should never travel to that backward, backwater country, bubble or no bubble. Then there was the memorable incident at Budapest airport when the plucky security guards tried to prise the knitting needles from my beloved’s handbag, proving beyond doubt that Hungary is the most fascist country in Europe (but also probably the bravest). It was against this rather unlucky backdrop that I removed my laptop from my bag in Brisbane and placed it in the tray for scanning, along with my phone, wallet and something else… Oh, I remember now: my Steamboat water bottle. Dear reader, you probably think I’m stupid, but I promise you I checked the lid. I tightened it so tight that I doubted I would ever get it off again. Then I laid it down next to my computer and walked on through. When the tray arrived at the other end to meet me, the computer was fully immersed in water. The water bottle, full when it entered the scanner, was practically empty. The tray was no longer a tray, it was a swimming pool. I let out one of those Homer Simpson screams and dived into the deep end to fish out my laptop while other passengers stared in horror. An enormous puddle formed on the carpet under where I held my laptop. I saved a camera lens from ocean waves once, but there would be no coming back from this one. It’s now a week later and I’ve gained a new laptop, but lost a water bottle. I was sad to see it go crashing into a rubbish bin at Brisbane airport. It was a good water bottle, always easily found and with a top that hardly ever popped off.

Ricky is a writer, musician and airport hazard.

25 JUNE 2021

PHOTO BY JAMES BRAUND

f there’s one thing tourism organisations like to give visiting journalists as a keepsake of a media trip, it’s a branded water bottle. Water bottles are by far the most common gift, followed closely by caps, bottle openers, keyrings and USB sticks. I have a draw full of USB sticks featuring images and information from places I don’t remember visiting. I have a cardboard box so jammed with colourful caps from around the world that it’s splitting apart. Our fridge door is so laden with magnetised bottle openers it looks like it’s suffering from a terrible skin condition. But where are all my water bottles? “You have so many water bottles,” my long‑suffering domestic inventory stockist calls out each time I ask where I might find a water bottle. “That’s not an answer!” I cry, pathetically. “Look!” she calls back, exasperated. “Just don’t use that Steamboat one. It leaks.” Ah, the Steamboat one. A memento of a very nice ski trip to Steamboat Springs in Colorado, just before COVID-19 arrived to cruelly curtail my overseas showbag collection. It was a good water bottle, or so I thought. A handy size, easy to open (more on this soon), a lid that seals well and a reliable top that pops on and off easily. “I wouldn’t trust that top,” I was warned. In hindsight, The Ever Practical One had a point. The thing I liked most about that water bottle was that I could always find it. And if you drank from it then replaced the top carefully and left it upright on a solid surface, then it never leaked. Hence, it was my first choice of hydration receptacle for a trip to Brisbane last week. What could possibly go wrong? We all have our horror stories about airport security screening scanners. Or maybe it’s just me. Like the time the scanner identified rotting fruit in a forgotten, hidden compartment in my bag at Wellington airport, causing New Zealand customs to draw their weapons thinking I

It was a good water bottle, or so I thought.

Ricky

Director-writer-actor Julie Delpy stars as a scientist locked in a custody battle – who makes a startling decision when tragedy strikes. by Philippa Hawker @philippics

Philippa Hawker is a writer on arts and film.

ulie Delpy always knew that she wanted to write and direct her own movies. When at the age of 14 she auditioned for the legendary French director Jean-Luc Godard, she recalls telling him: “‘It’s okay if you don’t cast me, but can I please come to the set and see how you work?’ He said, ‘I’ve already made up my mind to cast you. Why don’t you get paid to act, and come to my set whenever you want?’” So she had a small role in Godard’s sardonic 1985 crime comedy, Detective, and regularly skipped school to spend every day she could on set. Since then, her acting career has spanned Europe and Hollywood, moving between independent features, arthouse hits and the occasional blockbuster. She is best known for her role as Céline in Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy, the much-loved chronicle of a relationship, in which she and Ethan Hawke play a couple whose turbulent romance is explored over the course of three films made between 1995 and 2013. But her determination to make her own movies has never left her. She decided against pursuing her ambitions in Paris and went to film school in New York, following

the advice of filmmaker Krzysztof Kieślowski, who cast her in his 1994 drama Three Colours: White and has been a strong influence on the way she thinks about cinema. Since 2002, she has directed feature‑length films in English and French, made comedies with a dark twist, and tackled a period vampire tale, The Countess (2009), that’s more drama than horror. Her new feature My Zoe – her seventh – takes some surprising, often risky, turns. My Zoe grew out of many things: personal experience, her worst fears, a long-ago conversation with Kieślowski about fate. It is the story of a bitter custody battle; it’s about loss and the refusal to accept loss; it’s the tale of a woman who won’t take no for an answer, even under the most devastating circumstances. And it shifts from the portrait of a warring couple to a scenario in the realm of science fiction. Delpy is the writer, director and star. Her character, Isabelle, a scientist working in Berlin, is fighting with her estranged husband James (Richard Armitage) over the custody of their young daughter Zoe (Sophia Ally). James, aggressive and judgemental, loses no opportunity to cast doubts on Isabelle’s capacity to be a good mother. Isabelle, for her part, is ready to fight back. Then, when the couple’s life takes a tragic turn, Isabelle’s ferocious determination carries the film into new moral and scientific territory. Isabelle, according to Delpy, is “not necessarily likeable and so some critics got mad at me. I was like, Why are you mad at me? I’m describing a character I created, but I’m also an observer of what she did. I don’t know if I would do it, but it’s interesting to me.” She feels it’s crucial to take female characters in unfamiliar directions. “Often in stories the woman is the person accepting fate, accepting things, being the reasonable

PHOTO BY HENRY GARFUNKEL/HEADPRESS

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Film

Julie Delpy

Mother of All Dilemmas

MY ZOE IS IN CINEMAS NOW.

one, the one who stays within the limits of what’s acceptable.” True equality, she says, means “that we need to have women characters who are not doing what’s expected of them”. At the same time, Delpy observes that many male performers have hang-ups about likeability. When she was casting the role of the antagonistic James, Armitage was “the only actor I met who didn’t ask me to make his character nicer. I met actors who have played serial killers, but they were more scared to play James than they were to play people who killed women by the dozen. That tells you how difficult it is for men to play a psychologically abusive man.” And yet, she adds, Armitage portrays “not just an angry man who was destructive, but also profoundly emotionally hurt”. Delpy has always been outspoken about the darker aspects of the movie business. She talks about the time when she refused to sleep with a director “and basically in the first cut of the film I was cut out completely”. Though her performance was later reinstated, she says the experience “made me realise something. As a woman, if you don’t take your life in your hands you become a victim of the system.” Being a filmmaker gave her a different relationship to the creative process, and some measure of power over her work. But raising money, no matter how small the budget, will always be hard. Even with all her experience, she says, “I’m still fighting to make my films. But at least I know that if I fight to the end, I can maybe get something out of it, instead of being part of a system that I don’t want to comply with in the first place.”

25 JUN 2021

SOPHIA ALLY AS ZOE WITH JULIE DELPY

Alice Pung

Books

PHOTO BY COURTNEY BROWN

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

It’s not a book about identity – it’s a book about a mother-daughter relationship.

by Yen-Rong Wong @inexorablist

Yen-Rong Wong is a writer of non-fiction based in Meanjin/Brisbane, on unceded Jagera and Turrbal land.

lice Pung has explored many of her personal relationships through her bestselling memoirs Unpolished Gem and Her Father’s Daughter, and her book of essays Close to Home. In her new book, One Hundred Days, her first adult novel, she delves deep into the intricacies of the unique and often difficult relationship between mother and daughter. The novel derives its name from the Chinese tradition of celebrating 100 days after a baby’s birth, a significant milestone in times of high infant mortality. These hundred days are a time of rest and recuperation for both mother and child; mothers can spend at least the first 30 days in confinement, and during this time, they often have their own needs met by their mother or mother-inlaw. Nourishing foods are prepared, and appropriate herb concoctions are prescribed to help the mother’s body heal from the ordeal that is pregnancy and childbirth. This time also allows the mother to bond with her child without the distractions and stressors of normal life. Karuna, the 16-year-old protagonist of Pung’s novel, however, is confined against her will, both during and after her pregnancy. But it is this time and these experiences that shape her understanding of what it is to be an adult – and most importantly, a mother. “I had three kids in the five years it took me to write this book,” Pung says, reflecting that this experience not only influenced the way she approached the idea of motherhood, but also the way she wrote the book. “I didn’t have much time to write, so when I did, I had to choose my words carefully. I feel like I almost tweezed every word in the book into place – every sentence had to stand alone.”

ONE HUNDRED DAYS IS OUT NOW.

25 JUN 2021

Alice Pung’s novel plunges into the murky waters of the mother‑daughter relationship, ever more turbulent when the daughter is 16 – and a new mother herself.

Counting the Days

The product of this careful tweezing is a novel narrated by Karuna to her daughter. There isn’t much of a plot, and Karuna doesn’t often venture very far from her housing commission apartment. “She doesn’t do very much,” Pung admits, “but that’s sort of the point.” The story focuses instead on the mess that is a teenager’s interior life, which is already complicated enough without throwing pregnancy hormones and an overbearing mother into the mix. “Things happen internally,” Pung says, “not just physically, but also psychologically. It’s a book about a young person coming into adulthood.” Such a time can be difficult for both parent and child, and Pung manages the tensions between Karuna and her mother beautifully, with warmth and care. In this way, she has created a universal story, rich with emotion – the rush of a first love, the indignation at not being allowed to do something or go somewhere, the feeling of restriction, of being treated like a child and yet expected to act like and shoulder the responsibilities of an adult. And like all of Pung’s work – like life – there are moments of levity among these moments of hardship. Karuna’s mother (like most Chinese aunties) believes “cold” foods should not be eaten during pregnancy, so when Karuna’s doctor recommends she adds more fruit to her diet, her mother buys some watermelon at the shops – but boils it before serving it to her daughter. Her love for Karuna is clear, though at times misguided, and Karuna eventually comes to this realisation after her own daughter is born. Though marketed as an adult novel, One Hundred Days is a novel for young adults too, and Pung admits she had a 16-year-old Asian girl in mind during the writing of this book. “I don’t think we give teenagers enough credit when it comes to understanding the world,” she says. “They can be so insightful and see things differently from older people, and I think they will be able to understand what I’m trying to do in this book.” Indeed, any teenager who has ever felt trapped by their parents’ seemingly incomprehensible whims will be able to relate to Karuna. While Pung stresses “it’s not a book about identity – it’s a book about a mother-daughter relationship”, she is also glad that a book like One Hundred Days doesn’t need to emphasise its protagonist’s ethnicity for the sake of the story. “Her ethnicity is important, of course, but it’s not the main focus. It’s a story that everyone can relate to in their own way,” Pung says. There are, of course, references scattered throughout the novel that allude to Karuna’s heritage, but there are just as many Australianisms that will resonate with anyone who was raised or has lived in Australia. Pung says she had fun researching pop-culture in the 80s to ensure the novel’s authenticity: “I wanted to make sure I got all my references right, so it was interesting to look up things like obscure video games and names of lollies.”

Songwriter and author Michelle Zauner has worked through the grief of losing her mother, creating a joyous new Japanese Breakfast album. by Jon Tjhia

Jon Tjhia is a radio maker, musician, artist and writer whose recent work is published by IMA, Going Down Swinging, LIMINAL, Avantwhatever and the ABC.

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

rief, when it seizes you, is a process that takes as long as it takes. Songwriter and musician Michelle Zauner is keenly aware of this. Under the alias Japanese Breakfast, her songs to date have focused on exploring various causes of grief: unmet desire, misplaced hopes, foundering relationships and in particular, death – and how to be a good person in spite of them. None of this is surprising when you consider the genesis of the project. Zauner wrote the first Japanese Breakfast album, Psychopomp, while supporting her mother through cancer treatment, and recorded it partly as a way of channelling the immense emotional energy stirred by her passing. Psychopomp’s wistful and cinematic follow-up, Soft Sounds from Another Planet, continued to delve into the trauma of loss, with Zauner’s blossoming skill in writing reflective and witty lyrics matched by her growing prowess as a producer of spacious indie rock. The band, which includes Zauner’s

PHOTO BY PETER ASH LEE

Music

Japanese Breakfast

Good Grief

husband Peter Bradley and frequent co-producer Craig Hendrix, appeared at major US music festivals and on late‑night talk shows. Four years on, with the release of Japanese Breakfast’s third album, Jubilee, she’s ready to shift her focus. This one, she says, is about joy. Across 10 songs broadly addressing the meaning and the pursuit of happiness, the record delivers bright, atmospheric pop brimming with heart, droll humour and, yes, brooding introspection too. Zauner and Hendrix have tricked the arrangements out with rich layers of strings, piano, horns, percussion and electronics. It’s a maximalist treat, a vision of optimism in a time sorely lacking it. Zauner’s roots are in DIY culture, but the blossoming success of Japanese Breakfast has allowed her to pursue a bolder vision, and to bring other people into the fold. “You see a lot of pop stars just blow money on, like, stupid shit. I never want to waste that opportunity or the new funds that come into your world. And so I always want to constantly be pushing and making bigger ideas come to life,” she says. Part of her musical project’s release from grief, perhaps, has to do with Zauner’s other writing. On the night we speak, she’s just found out that her first essay collection, Crying in H Mart, has debuted at #2 on The New York Times hardcover non-fiction bestseller list. It’s a memoir in fragments: a moving examination of her relationship with her mother and her family, her drifting from – and returning to – her Korean‑American heritage, and the vital role food and cooking played in all of it. Early readers have raved about Crying in H Mart’s vivid descriptions of sumptuous meals, its evocative scene‑setting, and its lucid contemplations of mourning, identity and love. Jatjuk, kimchi and tangsuyuk appear alongside frank stories about work, life as a musician and a “complicated desire for whiteness”. Zauner’s prose transports readers from Seoul, her birthplace, to Eugene, Oregon, where she grew up, and across America to New York and her local H Mart (a Korean-American supermarket chain) in Philadelphia where the titular essay, first published in 2018 in The New Yorker, is set. The essay was a hit with readers, leading to a major book deal.

JUBILEE IS OUT NOW.

25 JUN 2021

At university, Zauner took “every single course in fiction writing and creative writing, except for non-fiction”. She was particularly interested in dirty realist fiction – and especially uninterested in writing I feel like I’m about the Asian‑American constantly fighting to experience. “I just wanted tell stories, and it wasn’t make someone proud, to until my mom passed away and I don’t know who that the story I became obsessed with was just our it is anymore. story, you know?” Ultimately, though, she came to feel that cultural identity wasn’t something she could avoid. “It informs everything,” she explains, opting instead to allow her heritage to keep its true place in her story while avoiding overemphasising or belabouring its significance. Having been underexposed to Asian‑American writers earlier in her life, she prepared for her book by reading them extensively; she cites a long list (Alexander Chee, Jenny Zhang, Jhumpa Lahiri, Shin Kyung-Sook, Nam Le, Amy Tan, Frances Cha, Han Kang, Jia Tolentino and Adrian Tomine) of writers whose books informed her approach. If it seems like Zauner is an exceptionally hard worker, you can thank her mother for that, too. While a firm work ethic was a strong part of her upbringing, she says it took some time to marry it with her interests. It’s a mentality that can sometimes get out of hand; she credits her partner, family and bandmates with encouraging her to moderate her tendency for overwork or self-criticism. “I feel like I’m constantly fighting to make someone proud, and I don’t know who it is anymore. I feel like a big part of it is like, it’s my mom, who is no longer here.” As a child, her mother encouraged her to keep a diary to help her learn to write. Has she considered how her mother would react to the incredible success of her music – and now her book? “It would be my ultimate dream for her to see the success I’ve accomplished. I’m not a religious person, I’m not a spiritual person, but there is some weird suspension of disbelief where I have to believe that she knows in some way, and I think she would be very proud of me.”

Film Reviews

Annabel Brady-Brown Film Editor @annnabelbb

first discovered Sparks as a teenager, when I’d see the mysterious group name-checked in interviews by my favourite bands as their favourite band. Their innate sense of drama and experimentation – and, of course, humour – is what drew so many to the eclectic pop-rock band, from the late 60s to the present day. Edgar Wright’s new documentary The Sparks Brothers approaches the band rather conventionally, but the continually shape-shifting music shines out, infectious and irrepressible. Equally elusive, Blue Velvet (1986) is the movie that, for many, sums up the deliciously strange and deeply spiritual perspective of American director David Lynch. Through the naive eyes of amateur detective Jeffrey Beaumont (Kyle MacLachlan), the film reworks memories from the director’s idyllic 1950s childhood in Boise, Idaho, peeling back the facade of white-picket fence suburbia to reveal a hotbed of desire and perversion. Turning 35 this year, it screens in Melbourne at the Classic and Lido cinemas (1-2 July) as part of Lynch retrospective seasons running through to mid-August. Less brains, more brawn, Fast & Furious 9 sees the high-octane franchise roar on, with the latest film an overblown and totally delightful family-flavoured escapade, with some extra daddy issues thrown in for emotional oomph. The globetrotting continues – including a hysterical trip beyond the globe – aided by star cameos from Helen Mirren, Cardi B and Kurt Russell. ABB

FAST & FURIOUS: RUNS ON DIESEL

IN THE HEIGHTS 

Before Hamilton, Lin-Manuel Miranda’s cultural juggernaut, there was In the Heights, his warmly energetic pop/ hip-hop Broadway hit about a tight-knit community of dreamers in New York’s Washington Heights. Director Jon M Chu’s film adaptation brings the story to joyous life with vibrant musical numbers that combine wit and feeling – Alice Brooks’ camera has a twinkle in its eye and heart on its sleeve – and this blend works a treat; it might be the new gold standard for the modern-day movie musical. Led by Anthony Ramos, the cast is blessed with an easy, heart-soaring charisma, and Quiara Alegría Hudes’ script delves deeper than her original stage version, exploring the realities of a mostly immigrant population living on a rapidly gentrifying block with moving detail. Chu keeps community front and centre with a generously sized chorus of neighbours; this whole block laughs and cries together, lifting each other up. It’s a celebration of what happens when we let our hearts sing out loud. CASSIE TONGUE BUCKLEY’S CHANCE

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

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Whoever suggested Bill Nighy as a Crocodile Dundee-esque sheep farmer in this outback kids film deserves an Oscar. What initially seems like extreme miscasting (if you want someone to pronounce “g’day”, Nighy is not your man) proves to be the film’s strength as the Englishman settles into a Clint Eastwood-lite performance as bushie Spencer that gives the tale some real heart. When pre-teen New Yorker Ridley (Milan Burch) arrives on Spencer’s doorstep with his mum (Victoria Hill), he’s unimpressed. It’s been a year since the death of his father, and the wounds are still raw. Ridley then gets lost in the desert after an encounter with a pair of bungling locals trying to force Spencer to sell his farm. His only hope of survival? A stray dingo. This film’s mix of serious family drama, comedy bad guys, and an idealised animal companion results in some jarring tonal shifts. Still, the stunning outback – and a photogenic dingo – make up for a lot. ANTHONY MORRIS

MARTIN EDEN 

Jack London’s 1909 novel is transported to Naples in this ambitious adaptation by director Pietro Marcello. Shot beautifully on 16mm, it follows Martin, a young sailor whose life course swerves when a heroic act leads him to the mansion of a wealthy family. Here, he becomes enthralled by the family’s daughter Elena (Jessica Cressy) and enraptured by literature. Soon, he’s reading voraciously and vows to become a writer, despite his lack of education and money. Like the novels of Italian writer Elena Ferrante, Martin Eden’s power lies in how it sits with the discomfort – and contradictions – that arise out of upward mobility and class struggle, as well as the grim realities of writing as a career. The incredibly gorgeous actor Luca Marinelli as Martin is a revelation, full of rowdy charm and, eventually, destructive mental torment. With nicotine-stained teeth and a resigned stupor, he movingly depicts how the faithful turn faithless, with only their inflated egos intact. ISABELLA TRIMBOLI

Small Screen Reviews

Aimee Knight Small Screens Editor @siraimeeknight

THE UNUSUAL SUSPECTS  | SBS + SBS ON DEMAND

ESSAYS ON EMPATHY

 | STAN

 | PC

When a mining company’s plans threaten to destroy the town of Greylock, resident Sarah Cooper (Stella Baker) leads them in declaring independence from the US. But how do they run their own country? And can Sarah, who’s immediately declared president, be a leader without becoming corrupt? What the series doesn’t ask is why everyone is unwaveringly confident that a history teacher with no political experience is their ideal leader. The series lionises Sarah, even as she insists she’s not a hero. In centring Sarah, the series sabotages any revolutionary impulse it might have, reinforcing the single-hero narrative against community-led change. A standout is Native American actor Forrest Goodluck (The Revenant) as Tyler, but his presence only reinforces the strangeness of shaping a narrative about land rights around a white woman. Tyler might have more pertinent thoughts on the subject, but the series seems uninterested in hearing them. The Republic of Sarah is not about starting from scratch, not completely. It’s just about having a different white person in charge. IVANA BREHAS

A collection of 10 soul-revealing games, this narrative study focuses on the human condition and relationships. Stories with compelling, inevitable conclusions are filed alongside multiple-choice, player-driven narratives; tales filtered through lenses of corporate cyberpunk skulduggery, transhumanism, domestic abuse, disability and more. In one, a teenager investigates her own body with a stolen X-ray machine, and the player ascribes memories to what she finds. In another, a hitman spreads mischief throughout the underworld with very specific flower arrangements. Some of the material dates back to 2015, with detail and depth varying. Spanish studio Deconstructeam – best known for 2014’s morally complicated thriller Gods Will Be Watching – make no illusion of the fact that some of what we find here is sketches, experiments and tangents, like flipping through the notebook of an artist still developing their voice. Fans of short stories, anthologies and one-act plays will revel in its brief but thoughtful narratives. NICHOLAS KENNEDY

t’s only been a month or so since I was lamenting the end of Aidy Bryant’s beautiful, body-positive comedy series Shrill, yet it seems I’ve already found a new show to fill the space in my heart reserved for funny, fallible, introspective women. From the opening moments of Rose Matafeo’s Starstruck – which dump the Auckland comedian in a London nightclub toilet, worse for wear on New Year’s Eve – I was besotted with this cheeky series about a one-night stand that won’t quit. Co-written by Matafeo and her podcasting partner Alice Snedden (for vicarious friendship, subscribe to their Boners of the Heart), the screwball six-parter stars Matafeo as Jessie, a New Zealand expat working several menial jobs while resisting the magnetism of a love affair with fictional Hollywood hunk Tom Kapoor (Nikesh Patel, Four Weddings and a Funeral). Think of Jessie as Fleabag’s working-class, Kiwi cousin, perhaps, and the whole show as a sombre, transatlantic Broad City. Matafeo’s real-life bestie Emma Sidi is a treat as Jessie’s bawdy confidante, enabler and flatmate Kate. You may recognise Matafeo from her brief but memorable cameo as a sardonic checkout operator in The Breaker Upperers (2018), or for her lead role as a prospective parent-in-denial in last year’s Baby Done. From the big-screen to her stand-up and sketch comedy, she brings both endearing inelegance and quick-witted charisma to her every jaunt, and Starstruck is no exception. Now streaming on ABC iview, with season two already greenlit. AK

25 JUNE 2021

THE REPUBLIC OF SARAH

WE’RE STARSTRUCK BY ROSE MATAFEO

A Philippine proverb – aptly encapsulating this delightfully audacious heist comedy – goes, “A desperate person clutches onto the blade of a knife.” Glamorous socialites Sara (Miranda Otto, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina) and Roxanne (Michelle Vergara Moore, Condor) live with their Filipina maids, Evie (Aina Dumlao, MacGyver) and Amy (Lena Cruz), in opulent eastern Sydney. When circumstances threaten their prosperity, in turn jeopardising their servants’ incomes, the women concoct a plan to swindle themselves a sweet $16 million. But to pull it off, they must overcome grievances and mistrust, with The Unusual Suspects using these clashes to explore the personal dimensions of big topics like race, migration and class. It’s not out to polemicise, though: there are scenes of uproarious hilarity, moments of empathetic characterisation and cultural resonance, and criminal scheming that rivals any in the Ocean’s franchise. Plus there’s real heart: by series’ end, faced with the pay-off they deserve, the women learn that their fortunes are theirs to shape, and that no amount of money can buy loyalty or love. ADOLFO ARANJUEZ

Music Reviews

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

hat makes a great cover song? Pure replication is boring. Turning popular tracks into stale, oversung, television song-contest versions is tedious, not to mention a little depressing. I’m always drawn to covers that extend the original song’s purview, revealing some hidden and forgotten meaning, or offering a new interpretation entirely. There’s so many great covers that achieve this: Placebo’s ‘Running Up That Hill’ (Kate Bush original), Soft Cell’s ‘Tainted Love’ (Gloria Jones), Marianne Faithfull’s ‘Ballad of Lucy Jordan’ (Dr Hook) or much of Roberta Flack’s oeuvre. But it’s two recent cover releases from local artists that have me thinking about the art of interpretation. ‘From Little Things Big Things Grow’ by Paul Kelly and Kev Carmody has become so ubiquitous in Australian culture (across television, even in advertising) that its origins as a protest song about the Gurindji strike and land rights have been obscured. But Ziggy Ramo’s cover (which features Kelly) brings its political intent back into focus, with new verses that tell the true history of colonialism and invasion in this country. As a part of Rising Festival’s excellent Singles Club series, Julia Jacklin paired up with RVG to deliver a mournful version of Bjork’s ‘Army of Me’. The original song is one of the Icelandic artist’s more combative tracks, full of industrial menace and contemptuous vocals. On the Jacklin and RVG version, however, new spectral melodies and a more mournful tone give the track a resigned edge, brewing with disappointment. IT

O: Y R A MA R Z IG GE R ST V O C

Isabella Trimboli Music Editor @itrimboli

SOUR OLIVIA RODRIGO 

Having starred in Disney’s widely popular High School Musical spinoff and internet comedy Bizaardvark, Olivia Rodrigo’s success may seem obvious – the latest output of the Disney-to-popstar pipeline – but there’s still a certain charm about it. Perhaps it’s the simplicity of her debut ‘Drivers License’, whose yearning – and relatable – earnestness earned it an instant place amid the TikTok canon. Or maybe it’s the drama of the whole affair, both ‘Drivers License’ and the 10 other tracks on Sour successfully painting Rodrigo as the victim of a messy break-up who wrests back power via chart-topping success. Like any charismatic narrator, Rodrigo loves a winking, in-joke reference: an album opener that sounds like the Rogue Traders’ ‘Voodoo Child’-lite (and samples the same Elvis Costello riff); a Hayley Williams nod on the poppunk single ‘Good 4 U’. But not every song is so meticulously pruned, as on ‘Traitor’ and ‘Enough for You’ – tracks that veer so close to Taylor Swift’s playbook as to sound like derivative fillers on an otherwise promising album that strikes close to something universal. MICHAEL SUN

NEGATIVITY THE SCIENTISTS

GODZILLA THE VERONICAS

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On their first album in over three-and-a-half decades, Aussie underground icons The Scientists maintain their lively abrasion. Often credited for their influence on grunge, frontman Kim Salmon, lead guitarist Tony Thewlis, bassist Boris Sujdovic and drummer Leanne Cowie deliver an invigorating album that arrives anointed with bleary, jagged distortion. They strike a vibe of spontaneous improvisation, reflected in the beat-poetry undercurrent of Salmon’s lyrics (see ‘Dissonance’ and ‘Outsider’). Salmon has said he drew inspiration from Dave Graney’s band The Moodists for the exaggerated swagger of ‘The Science of Suave’, while the closing ‘Outer Space Boogie’ taps into The Cramps’ prowling psychobilly. The surprises continue with the uncharacteristically laidback Velvet Underground homage ‘Moth-Eaten Velvet’ and the sweet falsetto and parting trumpet on ‘Make It Go Away’. Negativity is a well-deserved victory lap for The Scientists after a recent spate of reputation-expanding reissues. DOUG WALLEN

Is it fair to say The Veronicas don’t get enough credit as songwriters? Long before Sia, Julia Michaels, MNEK and even Lady Gaga were using songwriting as a launching pad for their own stardom, the Origliasso twins were penning adrenaline-fuelled singles for t.A.T.u. That precision and ardour continue on Godzilla, which (aside from ‘In My Blood’) has no real discernible single or paperweight outside of 12 very slick, very well written and rehearsed pop songs. ‘In It to Win It’ and ‘Godzilla’ are propulsive. For the remainder of the album, the girls are mournful. The liveliness of their personal best, ‘Hook Me Up’, has developed into a (slightly) more reflective, adult form of melancholy. The Veronicas rose to fame around the time that emo was becoming a point of discussion, but emo was only ever pop music anyway, fuelled by male resentment and one big attitude problem. It’s a testament to the duo that they’ve managed to stick around. JONNO REVANCHE

Book Reviews

Thuy On Books Editor @thuy_on

FURY KATHRYN HEYMAN

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“I take coolness very, very seriously,” confesses Sinéad Stubbins in her delightfully awkward debut memoir, In My Defence, I Have No Defence. “I’ve been studying cool people my whole life.” In 37 wildly funny essays, covering everything from first crushes to corporate palates, Stubbins takes a microscope to her most embarrassing and devastatingly relatable life moments. Stubbins unerringly depicts that snide voice at the back of your mind – the one that obsesses over every bad decision you’ve made in your life and undermines all the decisions yet to come. Over the course of the book Stubbins dissects the planet’s coolest people (think Prince, Sandra Oh, Patti Smith), and muses on the currency of being cool. She comes to the conclusion again and again that cool is something other people see, not something we ever feel about ourselves. This Melbourne millennial weaves a kaleidoscope of seemingly tangential facts and experiences into a truly compelling story.

This memoir documents the author’s rape at age 20 by a taxi driver, the subsequent trial and Heyman’s constant attempts to escape the narrow boundaries of her shambolic, impoverished life. She ends up a couple of years later as a deckhand on a fishing trawler, and it’s only there that she’s finally able to confront her past. Fury is both a girls’ own adventure tale and a scathing witness account of the many instances of sexist and sexual assault Heyman and the young women of her generation have encountered. This book is fury in hindsight, because Heyman lacked the language at the time to express her rage at all the indecencies and injustices that faced her: “I don’t have a machete, I don’t have a sword, I don’t have a knife. I just have words…” Fury is a timely book and Heyman is a fine writer with a firm sense of narrative control. THUY ON

RAPHAELLE RACE

GOOD INDIAN DAUGHTER RUHI LEE 

Reading Good Indian Daughter is anxiety inducing. Not because it’s bad – far from it, it’s excellent – but because it says out loud things that most of us only whisper. It feels like an act of resistance, a declaration of freedom from a woman who is done being “good” for other people. Ruhi Lee’s memoir opens with her pregnancy and a quiet confession that she feels she won’t be a good mother to a daughter. As she unpacks those feelings and the trauma that sits behind them, Lee takes an insightful look at the culture, family and expectations that shaped her. Writing with unflinching honesty alongside compassion and a healthy dose of humour, Lee lays her life bare in the hope that others with similar experiences feel less alone. This is a moving and powerful book that looks at the heavy weight of expectation that pushes down on women and girls, but it’s also simply the story of a woman who wants her daughter to have more than she did. SARAH MOHAMMED

IN MY DEFENCE, I HAVE NO DEFENCE SINÉAD STUBBINS

25 JUNE 2021

e are now well and truly into winter. It’s not my favourite season, but there are some joys to enforced time indoors, including of course, more time for reading. Here are some new or upcoming releases to keep an eye out for: Hugh Breakey’s The Beautiful Fall, billed as a cinematic romance, wherein the lead character’s rare neurological condition means that “every 179 days Robbie forgets everything. He knows this because last time it happened he wrote himself a letter explaining it...” But then he meets a woman who he actually remembers. Then there’s the follow-up to Peter Wohlleben’s bestseller The Hidden Life of Trees. Wohlleben’s back with The Heartbeat of Trees, in which he continues documenting interactions between humans and trees and reminds us of the importance of reconnecting with the natural world. The book explores “the language of the forest, the consciousness of plants and the eroding boundary between flora and fauna”. For those who love crime fiction, Wimmera author Mark Brandi returns with The Others. It’s about an 11-year-old boy: “The only things he knows for sure are what his father has taught him… But who is his father protecting him from? And how far will his father go to keep the world at bay?” TO

Public Service Announcement

by Lorin Clarke @lorinimus

You’re qualified to have your own quiet opinions. You’re qualified to know what’s best for you. You have decades of experience in the field. You’ve probably made heaps of mistakes. Maybe there could be a whole section on your Life CV that’s just headed “Mistakes I’ve Made”. Nobody else has made the exact same sequence of mistakes you have. That puts you at a distinct advantage over people who fumble blindly forward without your insight. Save them from themselves! I had a friend once who was brilliant in job interviews. She got offered jobs all the time. I asked her once if she got nervous before interviews. “Nervous?” she asked, as though I had just punched her in the arm. “Why would I be nervous? They should be nervous. They’re just a company. I’m a person. I’m going to dedicate a

lot of my life to this company. The question is: Do they deserve me?” She said this with a straight face. I was giggling, and then I was vaguely annoyed and about to say something about how most people don’t get to swan around playing hard-to-get with their future employers. But I’ve never forgotten it. In the broader sense, in the “job as a metaphor for life” sense, there’s a lot of sense in her approach. Sometimes you can look up from what you’re focusing all your time on and think: hang about, does this deserve all my effort and time? Maybe it does. Sometimes though, it’s good to ask the question. Another classic job interview question is the open‑ended: “tell me about your strengths”. What it means, in job land, is “tell me what you’ve achieved in the workplace and how it might benefit my organisation”. The question is actually much more interesting in a broader context, though. I will now list the key strengths of some of the best people I have ever met. – Can make anybody laugh about themselves. – Does the exact right faces while listening. – Relaxes people when they’re stressed. – Admits when they’re wrong. – Takes out a piece of paper and a pencil and simplifies problems like an escape artist untying knots – shazam! – all your problems workshopped into insignificance. Cultivate these strengths. They’re good ones. The other question they love in job interviews is the opposite question: “What are your weaknesses?” Most of us know about those. Nevertheless, it’s good to be aware of them. To put them in perspective and to work on them when you can. Job interviews are weird, but maybe if we had to do an interview for the position of ourselves, we’d see our own shiny faces looking back at us and we’d think Oh, look, I’m a person. My strengths are making tea and chatting to people’s grandmas. My weaknesses are not separating the colours in the wash, and holding grudges for decades at a time. Maybe we’d give ourselves the job after all.

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

was called on for advice the other day by a friend who was about to go for a job interview. I did what anybody would when someone was calling on their personal skills in an hour of need: I looked it up on the internet. How anybody gave advice before the internet existed is beyond me. I love how you can look at a laptop for 10 minutes and suddenly you’re completely briefed on how to approach a topic that has never occurred to you before – kind of like how watching an hour of the Winter Olympics makes you an instant expert in the scoring system of an arcane sport and the historical dominance of the Scandinavians. So I looked up tips for job interviews. Job interviews are so weird. The interviewers are trying to glean a person’s entire life story in about the time it takes to watch an episode of The Office. Meanwhile, the interviewee is trying to put their best foot forward while attempting to guess from the interviewer which foot they think is best and where exactly forward is. The internet says to expect questions like, “name a time when you set a goal that you couldn’t reach” or “tell me about your approach to leadership”. You know, perfectly normal questions like that. Public Service Announcement: you’re qualified for the role of you. Sometimes it might feel like you’re not, but chances are you meet the KPIs.

25 JUNE 2021

You Do You

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

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

Tastes Like Home edited by Anastasia Safioleas

SH AR E FOOD SHOT BY DUY HUYNH, PORTRAIT BY JULIAN CEBO

Tastes Like Home Mandy Hall

Chicken, Mushroom and Miso Pot Pies Ingredients

Mandy says…

Serves 4-6

o much of life happens around the table. From the moment my children could eat, the table became a place for sharing news about the great and not so great parts of our day. As they and their vocabularies grew, they began to declare their preference for certain “mum-o” dishes. And one dish that is asked for more than any other is my chicken, mushroom and miso pies. Pie night is like end-of-school term, winning the premiership and Christmas morning all rolled into one. It can be loud and boisterous, the family either making fun of or consoling each other. It’s also a time for stories, sometimes hilarious, other times heartfelt. We talk about times past and share memories of my mother and father, who are no longer with us. Speaking of Mum, this recipe is the dish she liked me to make for her. In fact, it was the last dish I cooked for Mum – at her request – before she passed away. What makes a humble pie so magical? Maybe it’s the combination of creamy filling with flaky pastry that makes it feel like home. Or the memories of when I would mould everyone’s initials in pastry and place them on top of each pie. I did this for years before deciding love hearts were more apt. To this day, you’ll find a pastry love heart atop every one of my pies. I love seeing the look on the kids’ faces when they see this pie. It reflects all that I think home should feel and look like. Their faces say “I am loved”. This is a simple recipe, and perhaps it’s the simplicity that my children love. It’s always been a classic combo of chicken and mushroom, sometimes with a leek or two. The past few years have seen the addition of miso, which I ferment at home. You can buy beautiful miso at most supermarkets. It adds a savouriness that cannot be replicated. And store-bought pastry is great on those days when you don’t have time to make your own from scratch. I am proud of these pies because they somehow achieve all I have ever wanted – a family that knows they are deeply loved. This food is my version of a big, deep hug. I really hope that somehow, this comfort dish can become as special to your family as it is to mine. May it fill you with a generous serve of warmth and care. And may you know that you are always loved by someone.

Preheat oven to 200˚C. Heat a large saucepan or high-sided frypan over medium to high heat, add olive oil. Season thigh fillets then add to the hot pan, turn heat down very slightly and continue until cooked through and slightly golden, turning over once – approximately 12-15 minutes. Remove from pan and set aside. Using the same pan – don’t wash it out because the flavour from the cooked chicken is wonderful – return to the heat and add the butter. Once the butter has melted and is bubbling, add a good splash of olive oil and the chopped leeks, and let cook for 2 minutes. Then add the mushrooms and cook until softened, approximately 5 minutes. Meanwhile, chop the chicken thighs into bite-sized pieces. Sprinkle the flour over the leek and mushroom mix and cook for a further 1-2 minutes. Gradually and while stirring, add the stock and cream, and simmer until the mixture has thickened. Fold the chicken and miso through the mixture, cook for 1 minute. Turn off the heat and add chopped parsley. Spoon mixture into ramekins and top with a round of pastry, making sure to leave at least an extra 2-3cm overhang. You can also add any pastry decorations using the offcuts from your pastry sheets. Brush with egg wash. Place pot pies into the oven and bake until cooked through and golden – approximately 20 minutes.

MANDY HALL IS A FORMER MASTERCHEF CONTESTANT. FOR MORE OF HER RECIPES, VISIT LOVEFERMENTSANDFOOD.COM.AU.

25 JUNE 2021

Method

2 tablespoons olive oil (plus a splash extra for later in the recipe) 800g chicken thigh fillets salt and pepper to season 50g unsalted butter 1 leek, white end washed and finely sliced 300g button or portobello mushrooms, sliced or chopped into smaller pieces 3-4 tablespoons plain flour 1 cup chicken or vegetable stock 1 cup cream 2 tablespoons miso 3 tablespoons chopped parsley 3 sheets of frozen puff pastry, thawed in fridge Egg wash (1 well-whisked egg with 2 tablespoons of water or milk)

Puzzles

ANSWERS PAGE 45.

By Lingo! by Lauren Gawne lingthusiasm.com THIRD

CLUES 5 letters Crystal clear Finely chop Move to music School nitwit Wild, frenetic 6 letters The___Cometh, O’Neill play Early letter style Father of geometry Nerve cells Talk into 7 letters Björk’s country Cover Numbered by tens 8 letters Woman in Don Quixote

U D

Sudoku

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

N C E A M L

by websudoku.com

7 9 6 1 6

4 2

8 3

8 3 2 5 8

5 4 9

5 2 3 9

6 2

4 3 1

Puzzle by websudoku.com

Solutions CROSSWORD PAGE 45 ACROSS 1 Goggles 5 Tantrum 9 Livestock 10 Coins

11 Harpoon 12 Optical 13 Moor 14 Arithmetic 16 Legitimate 19 Yard 21 Denmark 22 In order 24 Acrid 25 Semaphore 26 Allegro 27 Hearsay

DOWN 1 Galah 2 Governor-General 3 Lesson 4 Spooner 5 Take out 6 Nice time 7 Rain cats and dogs 8 Misplaced 13 Melodrama 15 Stray dog 17 Makes do 18 Triumph 20 Hoopla 23 Reedy

20 QUESTIONS PAGE 9 1 An FA Cup match between Nottingham Forest and Sheffield, England, 1878 2 Anchorage, Alaska 3 Neapolitan 4 I Dream of Jeannie 5 Hippopotamus 6 Great Victoria Desert 7 Executive Producer 8 France 9 The Stonewall Inn 10 The planets of the solar system 11 Townsville, Qld 12 Africa 13 Ischaemic heart disease 14 The Phantom of the Opera 15 19 16 Port 17 Eternity 18 Marie-José Pérec 19 True 20 Lilibet Diana

25 JUN 2021

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

by puzzler.com

Word Builder

The number three has not undergone much change since Old English; the main difference is that we now write it using th rather than þri, using the character thorn (þ). The related word third has swapped the i and the r. Third was originally þridda, which should have given us the modern word thrid. There are records of the sounds switching place in some of the earliest writing in the Old Northumbrian dialect in 950, but third didn’t win out in many dialects until the 1500s. This switching of sounds is not uncommon across languages and is known as “metathesis”. The word bird was originally bridd, wasp was originally wæps, and the word ask has moved between ask and aks several times.

by Steve Knight

Quick Clues

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

14 15

DOWN

19 20

Cryptic Clues DOWN

1 Witness protection? (7) 5 Huff Post’s latest article finishing off Trump (7) 9 Model lovesick over another model – a load

1 Cocky husband supports party (5) 2 Long over anger surrounding Queen’s

of bull? (9)

waving arm signal (9)

26 Substantial legroom essential for lively

movement (7) 27 Buzz Ray as he works (7)

1 Cockatoo (5) 2 Regal representative (8-7) 3 Tutorial (6) 4 Tongue-tied reverend of crossword fame (7) 5 Remove (4,3) 6 Pleasant experience (4,4) 7 Deluge (4,4,3,4) 8 Lost (9) 13 Acting with exaggerated emotions (9) 15 Mongrel (5,3) 17 Gets by (5,2) 18 Victory (7) 20 Commotion (6) 23 Tall and thin (5)

Solutions

ACROSS

10 Sonic boom produces shrapnel (5) 11 Sticker shock for poor splitting a Solo? (7) 12 Current leader advancing in line of sight (7) 13 Secure backroom (4) 14 “I teach it, Mr Weaving!” (10) 16 Hurry, I’m almost late for fair (10) 19 Close? Less than a metre (4) 21 Country gents not happy says Spooner (7) 22 Where a priest may be correct (2,5) 24 Free introductory account? That’s sharp (5) 25 Striking seam, boundary registered by

ACROSS

1 Eyewear (7) 5 Outburst (7) 9 Farm animals (9) 10 Form of money (5) 11 Spear (7) 12 Relating to sight (7) 13 Anchor (4) 14 School subject (10) 16 Valid (10) 19 Imperial measure of length (4) 21 Country (7) 22 Neat (2,5) 24 Pungent (5) 25 Means of signal communication (9) 26 Lively passage of music (7) 27 Rumour (7)

representation?! (8-7) 3 Underdressed for class? (6) 4 7dn is raw pain according to him (7) 5 Top date (4,3) 6 Met in building around The Rocks for a pleasant experience (4,4) 7 Bucket of sand in car, I got sand all over the place (4,4,3,4) 8 Damages claimed over South Park and Lost (9) 13 Soap essential when scrubbing a male dorm (9) 15 Mongrel goats dry off (5,3) 17 How hairdresser manages? (5,2) 18 Broadcast attempt, turn speed into victory (7) 20 Publicity stunts shook Labor up (6) 23 Topless piggy is tall and thin (5)

SUDOKU PAGE 43

3 8 7 9 5 1 4 2 6

5 2 9 6 4 7 8 3 1

1 4 6 3 2 8 7 5 9

4 9 3 7 6 2 5 1 8

2 7 1 8 9 5 6 4 3

8 6 5 4 1 3 9 7 2

7 1 8 5 3 6 2 9 4

9 5 2 1 8 4 3 6 7

6 3 4 2 7 9 1 8 5

Puzzle by websudoku.com

WORD BUILDER PAGE 43 5 Lucid Mince Dance Dunce Manic 6 Iceman Uncial Euclid Nuclei Induce 7 Iceland Include Decimal 8 Dulcinea 9 Unclaimed

25 JUN 2021

Crossword

Click 1957

Johnny and Vivian Cash

words by Michael Epis photo by Getty Images

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

hen Johnny Cash stood on the steps of a Texas courthouse in 1965, he found himself in a spot of bother. He had pleaded guilty to drug possession, having bought amphetamines in Juarez, Mexico, taping them to the inside of a guitar. But his legal problems were the least of it – he soon found himself under attack from the Ku Klux Klan and associated racists. They condemned him because of the woman by his side – his wife, Vivian Liberto Cash, mother of their daughters Rosanne, Kathy, Cindy and Tara. She was Black, they said. The National States Right Party in Alabama boycotted Cash. It thundered, ungrammatically, in its paper The Thunderbolt that “money from the sale of [Cash’s] records goes to scum like Johnny Cash to keep them supplied with dope and negro women”. It meant their Texas marriage may have been illegal. It was not until 1967 that the Supreme Court ruled that two people of different races had the right to marry – rendering invalid laws in 16 states that forbade such unions. It came as a shock to Vivian, who was Italian‑American.

Her father was Italian, from Sicily, as were his parents. On her mother’s side, she was of Irish and German descent. Johnny and Vivian fought back against the claims, pointing to the marriage certificate that declared Vivian Caucasian, and the whites-only schools she’d attended. Johnny and Vivian had wed in 1954, having met at a skating rink three years earlier, when he was 19, she 17. In between he was overseas, in the air force. They exchanged more than a thousand love letters. In one, he wondered about their “mixed marriage” – he being Protestant, she Catholic. By 1965 the marriage was crumbling due to Cash’s drug and alcohol problems, constant touring and infidelity. KKK death threats shattered Vivian, home alone with four daughters, who wrote in her memoir that she had “wanted to die”. They divorced the next year. Two years later Cash remarried, to singer June Carter, as did Vivian, to a policeman. Earlier this year their daughter Rosanne had her DNA profiled and genealogy explored for a TV show – which found that her mother’s great-great-grandmother was born a slave, whose white father granted her freedom, after which she married a white man. Illegally.