Research Paper - Tracey Moffatt

Tracey Moffatt makes films that challenge dominant myths regarding Aboriginal people, whose experiences are typically de-narrated or viewed through a colonialist perspective. This research paper will examine how Moffatt steals the cinematic and photographic languages of the oppressor and uses those languages to revision history and rearticulate the location of Aboriginal people on the cultural roadmap. One could easily focus attention on the racial discourse contained within Moffatt’s work, but in this research paper, I will also examine her interchangeable use of film and photographic mediums, her ability to deconstruct myths that permeate through White Australia, and more specifically throughout the history of Australian film, and finally her subversions of temporality, which are often startling and revelatory.

CONTEXT

In Ray Chow’s terms, Tracey Moffatt has taken part in a process of forming a “new ethnography” of indigenous Australian people, which tells the story from the point-of-view of those who are usually the subject of Western-oriented ethnographies[1]. Filmmakers and artists are able to produce such new ethnographies when they reflect upon the way they have been previously “looked at”, in order to give an account of their own culture, and to describe further their own culture’s encounters with other societies and cultures. This can be seen with an artist like Kara Walker and even the post-colonial thinker Franz Fanon. In many ways, Moffatt’s investigations have been obvious; as with Some Lads (1986), where she challenged the studied seriousness with which Aboriginal people have been photographed as scientific, exotic examples of strangeness or as victims of the white invaders of their country, which can be seen in the photographs of ethnographers such as John Lindt. In BeDevil, (1993) Moffatt’s investigation into how film can interrogate the ways people “look” at each other is compounded by the fact that she is focusing on the “looks” which occur between people who need to negotiate several binary, socially constructed distinctions if they are to communicate with each other at all. Some of her works, reflect her context more quietly. For instance, a distinctive feature of many of her film and photography sets has been her use of dramatic and clearly painted backdrops[3]. Interestingly, in the mid to late 1980s, a style developed among the new urban Aboriginal artist’s that saw them use three-dimensional naturalism for all figures, but a very flat, Manet-like configuration for all depictions of the landscape. Ultimately, it must be said, that Moffatt examines a contemporary situation – often a construction of ‘urban Aboriginal culture’; but it must be recognized that this situation is inextricably linked to the events that perspired in the past.

MYTHS

A great part of Moffatt’s work is aimed at deconstructing the myths that have pervaded and typified the relations between Aboriginals and White Australia. However, it is pertinent that she is not deconstructing these myths in order to uncover the ‘truth’ – “I am not concerned with verisimilitude…I am not concerned with creating reality. I’m concerned with creating it myself”[4]. Her knowledge and her own experience of social problems and inequalities are ultimately ubiquitous in her work. Yet these are usually in incorporated into images whose poetry, ironic inventiveness and aesthetic power create truly new and independent realities. One such example is her attempt to undermine the constructions of national identity formulated around the notion of the landscape as the implied domain of men – a harsh, infertile place. It is possible to place Moffatt’s work as continuing the work done by films such as Wake In Fright (Ted Kotcheff, 1971), which took a more ambivalent stance to the outback. Suddenly filmmakers were presenting a landscape of fear and fascination; a place where humans were challenged by boredom, a place of spiritual enlightenment.

Scenes from Up in the Sky (1998) evoke and by implication, criticize, images of outback life that seem familiar from beer and car commercials on television, as well as from documentaries “exposing” the abjectness to which both Aboriginal and poor white communities have been condemned. These images stand in stark contrast to the realities presented in Night Cries (1990). This is an audiovisual story that relies on vivid, glossy colours for its eerie representation of the outback. For instance, the highly polished red floors of the main set reflect the mauves and vivid blues of the painted Australian desert landscape. These shiny colours immediately locate the story within the glare and heat of inland Australia, and establish the film’s story as one of human endurance. This seems to adhere to the conventional idea of the Australian outback as harsh and unforgiving. The subversion comes when we consider the domesticity of the scene and the fact that the protagonists, indeed the only characters we see in this setting, are both women. Further, against the expected outcome where white Australians are left with the burden of the “helpless” Aboriginal people, this story depicts an Aboriginal woman caring for her very old white adoptive mother.

Nice Coloured Girls (1987) sees Moffatt overturn stereotypical images from Australian history in order to expose the history of exploitation of Aboriginal women by white men. The short film is not an a-historical reconstruction of Aboriginal women, as Moffatt acknowledges the role of oppression and enforced silence in the construction of colonized Aboriginal women. This identification of the subaltern is juxtaposed against recognition of the acculturated, modern, urban Aboriginal woman in an unusual counter-narrative[5]. Thus, Moffatt escapes the tendency to represent the Aboriginal woman as a monolithic subject.

CULTURAL REFERENCES

Cultural references are littered through Moffatt’s work identifying it as post-modern through the use of pastiche and unstable identity. Her work incessantly explores both ‘high’ and ‘low’ sources, referencing and subverting the tradition of History Painting - so beloved of Western art, yet also mimicking the exaggerated visual stereotypes of advertising in the 1990s. Night Cries is itself, in a sense, a response to Charles Chauvel’s film Jedda (Charles Chauvel, 1955)[6]; only now the characters are 30 years older. Significantly, Moffatt has revised the gender representations that abound in that film, and her Jedda is empowered with male-identified skills. Jimmy Little’s presence in the film is particularly furtive ground. In regards to a post-colonial positioning, which I will explicate further later, Moffatt’s use of Little can be seen as a rethinking of the tenets of assimilation. He is shown miming himself, lip-syncing his own hit song. Colonial mimicry is based in the desire for a reformed, recognizable Other; a subject marked by a difference that is “almost the same, but not quite”[7]. Mimicry is thus the sign of double articulation, “a complex strategy of reform, regulation, and discipline, which appropriates the Other as it visualizes power”[8]. Little’s performance of ‘Telephone to Glory’, against clearly artificial images of the desert, a corrugated iron “dunny”, prosthetic eating devices, and a wheelchair, is odd to say the least. He sings of easy comfort, of a Christianity that welcomes everyone into its fold. But of course, Christianity is one of the double-edged gifts that European culture has given to indigenous Australia[9]. Little problematises the emotional register of the parental relationship. Abruptly interrupting the narrative’s linearity, the saccharine lyrics, plangent strains, and manufactured sensations, offer hollow comfort at the same time as they preclude the possibility of any direct emotional identification with either of the principals[10].

POST-COLONIALISM

It is important to note that there are no accusations in Moffatt’s oeuvre. Her aim is not political agitation. Her questioning of aboriginality and her view of it and whiteness as interrelated, undermines the binaristic positioning of Europeans and Otherness so prevalent in race relations. Moodeitj-Yorgas (1988) began a process of healing the ontological and narcissistic wounds of non-white subjects. While her inventory of hybrid representations, as seen in Movie Star: David Gulpillil (1985) moved towards the possibility of a metisse or creole society, it also acknowledged the value and ethics of Aboriginal cultures. Something More (1989) is a kind of allegory for the dislocation, loss, desire and oppression felt by all colonised peoples everywhere, and provides for social comment on those people who victimise outsiders. There is an unhappy ending to this intense and violent story as we witness the heroine’s unsuccessful struggle for ‘something more’. Night Cries (1990) allegorises post-colonial identity as the hybrid outcome of a forced affiliation, remaking maternal melodrama as “King Lear for women…the tragedy of national history”[11].

In much of her work, Moffatt’s attention is not focused recapitulating a childhood event or trauma in search of a scapegoat, but instead on the struggle for power. So, Moffatt not simply examines the struggles for power, but the very complex and shifting ground upon which these struggles, particularly as they revolve around the desire for acceptance, take place. The ghost stories of BeDevil (1993) are concerned with a particular set of socially constructed “secrets” which have existed for over 200 years – secrets that are involved with the many and varied experiences of being an indigenous person in Australian settler society. They are stories of ghosts and memories, of secrets, which, in Foucault’s sense, are not so much repressed as they are nurtured in the form of carefully controlled discourses where “silence and secrecy are a shelter for power”, anchoring its prohibitions[12]; but they also loosen its holds and provide for relatively obscure areas of tolerance. Through her telling of these ‘secrets’, Moffatt continues to break through the official discourse about indigenous people in Australia that has been carefully controlled by the institutions of academia, religion, the state and the art industry.

MEDIUM

Tracey Moffatt went against the grain in her trajectory from film and video to fine art. While artists like Cindy Sherman left the art world to make films. Some avant-garde and experimental filmmaking instead moved closer to the art world since the late 1980s thus separating itself from more mainstream narrative cinema, which may have incorporated some of its innovations but has rejected its radical vision. In her photographic works, she has adopted the procedures and effects of the studio photographer, exploiting the manipulation and image tampering that characterise contemporary commercial style. However, Moffatt has the ability to “criss-cross” the two mediums[13]. In Something More (1989), by blurring some photographs and by tightly cropping others, Moffatt refuses to satisfy the viewer’s desire for a complete and self-sufficient narrative. The viewer becomes the author, and becomes implicated in the story. Something More (1989), which was accompanied by a soundtrack at its first showing, appears as a collection of scenes from a film that was never made. In a film like BeDevil (1993), she created a filmic gestural practice concerned with an “experience of secrets”, and she imparts information that is usually hidden or otherwise obscured. In Up in the Sky, Moffatt takes inspiration from Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Accattone (1961), producing enigmatic pictures, which, like his film, achieve their effects through an aesthetic of contamination, a linguistic concept used by Pasolini to describe the action of different textual elements on one another, in which neither element loses its identity, but their encounter generates something new.

In Night Cries (1990), the use of film allows Moffatt to focus our attention and secondly our empathy with the daughter, played by Marcia Langton. We see the mother through her eyes. We are made complicit in her anger, frustration and bitterness and the manifestations of these against her aged, decrepit, wheel-chair bound white adoptive mother. This anger can of course stand for wider Aboriginal anger towards the white society that usurped their land and marginalized them into servitude. As Alison Butler points out, the mixed race relationships that resulted from the governments policies between the 1930s and the 1970s, domesticated all the internal tensions of colonialism, recasting them in terms of familial interdependence[14].

TIME

Many of Moffatt’s works involve a condensation between the various temporal strata brought into play by memories, dreams and fantasies. This can be seen in the photographic series Laudanum (1998), in which the photographs are produced with distinctly different tonal qualities. At times, for instance, in Something More (1989) we find the realm of a structure devoid of location and time; beyond the boundaries of all reality and fiction. As such, this photographic series can be read equally as a post-modern pastiche or a post-colonial narrative; there is no straightforward narrative and the viewer, seeking to find a satisfactory conclusion, instead is lead down the blind alleys one encounters in a dream. This play on narrative also occurs in Night Cries (1990) where the absence of a dialogue track contributes to the narrative theme of frustration, a feeling of being trapped, bored, and yet haunted by troubling memories. To reiterate the idea that Moffatt’s films are concerned with examining the contemporary situations facing Aboriginal, and by extension all marginalized peoples, it is intriguing that it is difficult to locate many of the stories in historical time. For instance, in Something More (1989), although the clothing suggests the 1950s, the story could in fact be set in any remote society with mixed races and outcasts at the peripheries of power.

CONCLUSION

While Moffatt’s works deal with Australian Aboriginal history, and identity politics, ultimately they reveal broader truths in regards to our understanding of the landscape, the mythologies that persist in our culture, and concepts of time and place. Coming from a fine arts background, Moffatt’s films and photographic series are carefully constructed, and permeate with meaning. Her work can be compared to African-American artist Kara Walker who also examines the wrong doings of a colonial power in the past from a contemporary standpoint. Both artist’s have experienced racism firsthand and refuse to have labels thrust upon them. Instead, Moffatt defines her own identity, and defines her own subjective relationship to her past, this land, and its people.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Butler, Alison. Women’s Cinema: the contested screen, Wallflower Press/Columbia University Press, 2002

Butler, Rex and Thomas, Morgan. Tracey Moffatt’s Beauty in Paula Savage and Lara Strongman (eds.) Tracey Moffat, City Gallery of Wellington, Wellington, 2002

Chapman, Chris. Hallucination: Notes on the Aesthetics of Tracey Moffatt’s Film and Video Work in Paula Savage and Lara Strongman (eds.) Tracey Moffat, City Gallery of Wellington, Wellington, 2002

Durand, Regis. Specific Climates in Michael Snelling (ed.) Tracey Moffatt, Institute of Modern Art, Brisbane, 1999

Foster, Gwendolyn Audrey. Women Film Directors: an international bio-cultural dictionary, Greenwood Press, Westport, 1995

Genet, Jean. Un captif amoureux (1986); quoted in Catherine David, “Recent Ruins” in Robert Gober, Galerie Nationale du Jeu de Paume, Paris, 1991

Julien, Isaac and Nash, Mark. Only Angels Have Wings in Julien Cooke (ed.) Tracey Moffatt: Free-Falling, DIA Centre for the Arts, New York City, 1998

Kaplan, E. A. Trauma Culture: the politics of terror and loss in media and literature, Rutgers University Press, 2005

Mellencamp, Patricia. A Fine Romance: five ages of film feminism, Temple University Press, Philadelphia, 1995

Mellencamp, Patricia. Haunted History: Tracey Moffatt and Julie Dash, in Discourse 16, No.2, Winter 1993/4

Morris, M. Beyond Assimilation: aboriginality, media history, and public memory in aedon, vol.4 iss. 1, November 1996

Newton, Gael. Invocations, Australian National University Drill Hall, Canberra, 2001

O’Reagan, Tom. Australian National Cinema, Routledge, London, 1996

Reinhardt, Brigitte. Creating One’s Own Reality, in Brigitte Reinhardt (ed.) Tracey Moffatt: Laudanum, Hante Cantz, New York City, 1999

Summerhayes, Catherine. The Moving Images of Tracey Moffatt, Charta, Milan, 2007

Summerhayes, Catherine. Haunting Series: Tracey Moffatt’s bedevil, in Film Quarterly, Vol.58, Fall 2004, p.14-24

Traussig, M. Mimesis and Alterity: a particular history of the senses, Routledge, New York City, 1993

FILMOGRAPHY

Something More Dir. Tracey Moffatt, 1989. Screening Time: 19 minutes

Night Cries Dir. Tracey Moffatt, 1990. Screening Time: 17 minutes

Nice Coloured Girls Dir. Tracey Moffatt, 1983. Screening Time: 16 minutes

Bedevil Dir. Tracey Moffatt, 1993. Screening Time: 90 minutes

Jedda Dir. Charles Chauvel, 1955. Screening Time: 85 minutes

Wake in Fright Dir. Ted Kotcheff, 1971. Screening Time: 109 minutes

Accattone Dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini, 1961. Screening Time: 120 minutes

---

[1] Ray Chow quoted in Catherine Summerhayes, The Moving Images of Tracey Moffatt, Charta, Milan, 2007, p.119

[3] The backdrop in Night Cries is particularly reminiscent of the paintings of Albert Namatjira; a popular water-colourist spurned by the critical establishment for his lack of ‘primitive authenticity’.

[4] Tracey Moffatt, quoted in ‘Tracey Moffatt: Free Falling, DIA Centre for the Arts, New York, 1983, p.23

[5] Gwendolyn Audrey Foster, Women Film Directors: an international bio-critical dictionary, Greenwood Press, Westport, 1995

[6] It is interesting to note that Chauvel’s film was considered liberal for its day, but is considered racist by today’s standards.

[7] Julien Cooke, Tracey Moffatt: Free-Falling, DIA Centre for the Arts, New York, 1998, p.26

[8] Ibid, p.27

[9] Though I have tried to avoid Moffatt’s own life, this is of course relevant in the auspices of her removal from her aboriginal birth mother, and upbringing in a white family, all in the name of the Church.

[10]

[11] P. Mellencamp, 1999, p.266

[12] Catherine Summerhayes, Haunting Series: Tracey Moffatt’s bedevil, in Film Quarterly, Fall 2004, Vol. 58 p. 16

[13] Specific Cinemas by Regis Durand, p.10

[14] Alison Butler, Women’s Cinema: the contested screen, p.110

Ned Kelly

This isn't strictly a comparitive analysis, because these films all focus on the same topic; but the representations of Ned Kelly differ greatly.

First things first, a list (I think complete) of films referring to Ned Kelly:

The Story of the Kelly Gang (1906)

The Kelly Gang (1920)

When The Kellys Were Out (1923)

When The Kellys Rode (1934)

These were all directed by Harry Southwell.

The Glenrowan Affair (1951)

Stringybark Massacre (1967)

Ned Kelly (1970) - starring Mick Jagger

The Last Outlaw (1980) - 4-part TV miniseries

Reckless Kelly (1993)

Ned Kelly (2003) - Dir. Gregor Jordan.

Ned (2003)

Obviously a myth Australians love. WHY?

Well bushrangers have been an Australian favourite since the early decades of the nineteenth century. But accounts of Ned were different from his predecesors. According to Gaile McGregor, he wasn't violent; he wasn't a runaway convict, and probably began his bushranging out of economic necessity or boredom. Bushrangers are a favourite because they caused the landed gentry some discomfort. According to the myth, he was the consummate Australian. Ye in many ways he fell short of the myth accorded to him. It appears that the Kelly legend has been seen as an illustration of a basic terpitude in the Australian character; a way of thumbing the national nose at the critical outside world. Also, Kelly exhibited an ambivalent attitude towards authority, he was independent and self-reliant.

McGregor ultimately claims that Ned Kelly's appeal has less to do with his character, or even his specific mythic associations, than with the fact that, qua exemplar, he is duplicitous enough to fit the requirements of both the cultural text and its unacknowledged subtext.

Basically, during his life Kelly was a legend. But when he died the Kelly legend entered the realm of myth as aspects of his story were emphasised for the way in which they reflected contemporary concerns about the inequities of the land laws, for example, or the ineptitude and corruption within the Victorian police force, and more widely, for the way in which a man who saw himself and his family (particularly his mother) as the victim of oppression and prejudice and who was resourceful and resilient in avoiding capture and eloquent in his self-justification.

Gregor Jordan's film is based on a book by Robert Drew titled, 'Our Sunshine'; which is a fictionalised account of the Kelly's exploits. Reviewers compared it to Christopher Cain's 'Young Guns', where a group of marginalised youths rebel against the authorities.

I read an interesting article outlining Tourism Victoria's choice to use 'The Man From the Snowy River' as a destination image; thus ignoring the fact that much of outback Victoria is labelled 'Kelly country'. It should be mentioned that Gregor Jordan's film was only successful in Australia and to a lesser extent, Ireland.

'The Man From the Snowy River' does provide a respectable alternative to Ned Kelly. The poem, on which the film is loosely based, is well known throughout Australia, with many people learning about it at school. As portrayed in the film, the Man is honest, respectful, aspires to own property of his own, and has a strong work ethic.

Is this why Tourism Victoria went with Miller's film?

Well these are not the only reasons.

Apparently, women love the film; the presence of a strong female lead and no violence is more appealing than a western-style action film (Ned Kelly) where the lead is attracted to married women (this is not suggested in the film, but does exist in much of the folklore surrounding Kelly).

However I have digressed.

A criticism of Jordan's film is it's decline into a Western-style shoot out, which many have claimed is as a result of a desire for an American audience.

Is it legitimate to alter a legend/myth to attract a larger audience? Oh, why not.

Another criticism of Jordan's film was that it assumed (probably correctly) that almost everyone in the Australian audience will be sympathetic to Kelly. Richard Kuipers suggests that for the film to have achieved more success overseas, Jordan needed to include more scenes outside of Kelly country. The film's tag-line is "you can kill a man, but you can't kill a legend'; unfortunately, it does not seem that Jordan wholly established this legend.

The 1970 version attracted quite a lot of contraversy; and most of it revolved around Mick Jagger. For starters, the Actors' Equity and some of Kelly's descendents protested strongly over his casting; and also about the location of shooting: Not Victoria, but NSW.

Some Mad Max trivia

http://www.theage.com.au/national/new-movie-and-new-pub-owner-head-for-mad-max-mecca-20100524-w81s.html

SFF thoughts

There are plenty of other films I'm hoping to see at the SFF too.

Shirley Barett's new film, South Solitary. She directed Love Serenade which I watched earlier this semester.

Candy Darling also stands out for me.

And also, A Woman Under the Influence. One of the few 'retrospective' films. A John Cassavettes film.

It's great the government has pumped some money in the SFF.

I have seen at least five films for the last four or five years now and have really noticed the decline in audiences and in the films shown.

I'm not sure if the money promised will affect this year's festival, but hopefully from next year on, the festival just gets better.

Unfortunately, just like the SBS, there has been a decline in film content that I will enjoy from this film festival.

I have loved some of the old retrospective programmes. But they have diminished in the last couple of years.

I was a regular at Cinemateque at the Chauvel (learnt where that name came from during this semester) on a Monday evening, but it's a bit hard to back up after the tute to go at the moment.

A few months ago the 'curator' was fired, and since then the programme has improved significantly. The films are now not so experimental, and are more 'canonical'. Kurosawa, Sirk, Truffaut, Godard, etc.

The SFF is an interesting case study in terms of some of the issues that have come up in tutorial discussions in the last month or so.

This is an event which, until this promise from the government, was really dependent on market forces. Programme directors had to pick films that would attract crowds, yet still aimed to create challenging schedules that would cater for niche markets as well.

A balance must be struck; and now, with the government funding, the SFF will be able to really extend their creative vision. Great news. Thank god Howard's gone.

For those playing at home...

http://sff.org.au/cms/

SFF

Pretty excited to see this at SFF.

(P.S super proud that I figured out how to resize this video...thanks go to http://testing-blogger-beta.blogspot.com/2007/02/testing-embedding-video-in-blogger.html

AND http://bloggerfordummies.blogspot.com/2008/05/embed-youtube-video-in-blog-post.html)

Concept Analysis - Mythologies

I think a useful way to examine myths is to analyse the work of Roland Barthes, who began deconstructing some of the myths that he observed at work in French society in the 1950s. He published 'Mythologies' in 1957. In it he examines the tendency of contemporary social value systems to create modern myths.

In the first section of the book, Barthes describes a selection of myths. For instance, red wine; specifically, how red wine has been adopted as the national French drink; how it is seen as a social equaliser and the drink of the proletariat, partly due to the fact that it is seen as blood-like, yet nobody pays much attention to red wine's harmful side-effects.

In the second section of the book, Barthes addresses the question "what is a myth today?". He extends Ferdinand de Saussure's notion of the sign: with a word, the meaning and the sound together to make a sign. To make a myth, the sign itself is used as a signifier, and a new meaning is added, which is the signified. This addition is not arbitrary though; mythologies are formed to perpetuate an idea of society that adheres to the current ideologies of the ruling class and its media.

'Mythologies' constituted a significant milestone in cultural critique, not just as a proto-structuralist analysis, but also as a mode of practicing cultural studies before its more recent forms of actualisation.

For Lefebvre, mystification is not a process by which the innocent are duped by the devious, but rather a collective process by which social relations, including power relations are acted out in everyday life in the domain of ideology.

Lefebvre believed that mystification (or ideology) could be transcended by knowledge and action; and that Marxist philosophy provided the necessary critical knowledge to secure this transcendence.

It is possible to see processes of demythologising and re-mythologising occurring everyday. It is within this realm that I think we can see a connection to genre. Films and television programmes vary their formulae to make such genres as romantic comedies seem new. This can also be seen with schools, which attempt to include relevant curricula, and in reaction, conservative critics call for a return to older myths as eternal truths.

Week Twelve Response

Unfortunately, while I don't think there is any answer for this, it is an extremely interesting question, that is, whether the ABC should be totally dedicated to the pursuit of ratings, since it is spending tax dollars. Should utilitarianism be out the window? That is, should minorities and niche markets be disregarded in favour of populist progamming.
The appeal of the ABC to many, is that it avoids the over-commercial, superficial, racist, dogmatic programming of the commercial networks. But, those are often the shows that most Australians enjoy to watch.

Some interesting observations were made in the tutorial in regards to sitcoms, and the evolution of laugh-tracks in Australian shows. It is remarkable that 'Hey Dad!' was the only show to use them, and that Australia has indeed suffered from a fear of the sit-com.

Something that I want to raise, that should have been raised last week, in the discussion of the SBS is the idea of multiculturalism. Essentially, I think this can be quite a dangerous ideal. And unfortunately it is an unresolvable one. Obviously not all content on SBS is 'multicultural', however the term is present in the mandate, and so would be persistently in the minds of those who control content at the Special Broadcast Service.
Slavoj Zizek has convinced me that multiculturalism is hegemonic. The politically correct idea of respecting the 'others' difference is extremely dangerous and actually quite racist. For Zizek, there is no progressive form of multiculturalism. In fact, by marking it as the master signifier of politics, we end up with contemporary modes of liberal racism, sexism etc. The Other remains as an Other; someone to be tolerated, but deprived of their radical otherness.
Look at ethnic cuisines in Australia. They are heralded as a sign of progress, that we are a multicultural society. Essentially, the fact that you can get a curry in Paddington don't mean jack. These restaurants become novelty and indeed Australians are suspicious if the staff at these restaurants do not match their expectations. That is, if they find chefs of Vietnamese descent cooking in an Italian trattoria, they will be suspicious.
I experienced this first hand last week. I work at il Baretto, an Italian resturant in Surry Hills. A customer, who I could tell was Italian, asked me halfway through her meal if the chef was Italian. She was shocked when I said no; I suppose she would be even more shocked to hear that the head chef has spent much of his life cooking Thai and Chinese cuisines. At the end of the meal, she approached the chef, who was speaking to the owner (who is Italian), and said, "that was really great; especially for an Australian." Strange.

Today's racism is precisely a racism of cultural difference. It no longer says, "I am more than you"; it says "I want my culture, but you have to keep yours." The notion of tolerance, under the liberal multiculturalist guise, masks its opposite: intolerance.

Julie Kristeva goes one step further to suggest that we cannot tolerate difference because we cannot tolerate difference in ourselves. But that is a story for another day.

Having said all this, I love the SBS. I don't love it as much as I did when I was younger; there are far fewer films, and far too much football and car shows (though I do love TopGear). The ads are annoying, but they still have Lee Lin Chin reading the 6.30pm news and that is great!
I also love the fact, that by accident, SBS executives may have stumbled upon a new format for television, and television advertising. I also love that SBS executives have the guts and foresight to pick-up shows like Queer as Folk, and OZ, even after all the other channels knock them back. Of course, as we have said, they are smarter with their advertising, and don't need the high ratings, however they still persist in showing risque content, and during the early naughties that was commendable considering the conservative guillotine which seemed to fell any attempts at subverting John Howard's 1950s values.

Another film I watched recently

Little Fish. Directed by Rowan Woods, 2005.
I love Cate Blanchett. Her ability to transform from quite an unusual but regular woman to a stunning beauty is remarkable. This film presents her as the former. She is everything Abbie Cornish was not in Candy (Neil Armfield, 2006). Even the suggestion of her past as a heroin junkie is frightening; her self-destructive tendencies are palpable. One watches helpless as she struggles, literally fights, her way through life; her past misgivings proving her major obstacle. She can't get a loan, she is often depressed, she struggles to trust anyone, most of all herself. Her relationships are strangled by the baggage of her misdoings.
This is quite a depressing film. Nobody seems to be satisfied. Even the successful drug dealer (Sam Neill), who is retiring seemingly unscathed by his lecherous, illegal career as a multi-milionaire seems totally unsatisfied, living two lives, unable to admit his homosexuality. There is essentially no light at the end of the tunnel for these characters. The only positive outcome seems to be that their life will continue on without being more negatively impacted on by their past.
youtube trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wxenulh_JIU

Antony Gormley - Firmament IV

An article I recently had published on Concrete Playground.

In games of “would you rather?”, I was often asked “would you rather be blind of deaf?”; after seeing Antony Gormley’s Firmament IV, I wonder why the game never included “... or forego the ability to perceive space?” First installed in the below-ground gallery of White Cube Mason’s Yard in March 2008, this is the concepts’ fourth outing. 1030 steel balls, each the size of a shot put, and 1849 steel elements are welded together to create a non-regular, polygonal structure that meanders and struggles to fit within the white cube (the structure measures over 20 metres in height). Look away now if you don’t want the surprise to be ruined, but the structure is representative of a human in the foetal position. Duh!
Within the four walls of Anna Schwartz’s gallery space, the man-in-the-form-of-a-molecular-structure creates a “double space” that disturbs precisely because it proposes occupation before our own subject-inhabitation. The graphic outline of this figure is reminiscent of a shed snake skin; it even resembles a banana peel, with its insides consumed. One is reminded of Le Breton, who noted that in some societies the body does not form a boundary, but is open to flow and exchange with the environment. Most will not be able to resist the temptation to climb through the delineation of this figure.
The perceived expansive force of Gormley’s sculpture is undeniably impressive. One more push, and it would break through the embryonic white walls. Any why not indeed? Run down to Anna Schwartz before it does, because this work, if liberated, loses all its potency.

Some films I have watched recently.

Head On. Directed by Ana Kokkinos, 1998.
The story of a young Greek-Australian man, struggling to discover his identity as a bisexual/homosexual Greek-Australian. Interesting exploration of multicultural suburbia, and the cliques that occur with dyspora's like the Greeks arriving in Melbourne. The younger generation try to break free of their cultural heritage in some ways; or more specifically, incorporate certain elements, but not others into their identity.
This is a visually confronting films; surely one of the first to so graphically depict homosexual acts in Australian cinema.
youtube trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zAHie0ow0U

Love Serenade. Directed by Shirley Barrett, 1996.
A surrealistic, and at times quite disturbing story of two sisters, a small town and a rather odd radio personality. I found it difficult to really emphasise with any of the characters, yet the story was compelling nonetheless. At times, a purely superficial investigation into notions of sisterhood, relationships, suburbia; at others, quite a profound statement of the commercialisation of society, the lack of real affection and communication in our lives, and the importance of being true to yourself.
youtube clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l14-62SrhE8

Alexandra's Project. Directed by Rolf De Heer, 2003.
A film I think would be better suited to being a theatrical production. The production felt stunted and too blocked-out. The main relationship was not believable. A poor casting choice, I believe, was made in choosing Helen Buday. Having said that, quite an intriguing premise for a film; with some captivating twists and turns. Ultimately, an unsatisfying resolution to what was beginning to be quite an interesting film. The opening credits were really good at establishing an unsettling feeling within the manicured suburbs; yet not enough time was spent establishing a believable relationship between the family members. The most believable relationship was perhaps between the nextdoor neighbour and Alexandra.
youtube trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bzh3U-jYEXY

Weekly Response Week Ten

This weeks topic was documentay ethics.

As expected with discourses relating to documentary, objectivity is a common issue; and I was constantly reminded of Derrida and his discussions of our pursuit of justice, when ultimately we will never reach that utopian aim.
Real objectivity seems an unobtainable goal for filmmakers; however this is not to suggest that it shouldn't be sought. But perhaps, this idea of documentary as defined by Grierson, as the "creative treatment of acutality" seems enticing. Of course facts need not be distorted, but they can certainly be played with, and presented in new and exciting ways. Sure, talking head interviews are informative, emotiove, and engaging, but they should not be the be-all-and-end-all of the documentary mode. Though I haven't seen the film, 'Unfolding Florence' seemed really interesting.

As with many genres, the documentaries that seem the most intriguing are those that are successful in subverting the conventions. I think of something like Agnes Varda's later documentaries, 'The Gleaners' for instance. This ageing French filmmaker takes such a personal approach, and the most amazing moments occur not when she is interacting with the issue at hand, namely gleaning, but when she interacts with us, the audience. She exposes her fears, she admits her ageing for instance. One cannot help but be moved by this heartfelt, and honest approach to filmmaking. And it seems, her style couldn't be further removed from some other more didactic documentary frameworks.

There was talk in the class of the ends justifying the means in regards to the ethics of documentary ethics. This is a tricky subject. Further complicated I believe, by the fact that every case is different. In the case of the photographer of the African girl and the vulture; both sides can make valid arguments. Sure, perhaps he should have saved her instead of taking the photo; and yet, perhaps he would be more successful in saving her through taking the photo. Maybe this is why he cried. He knew how whatever he did he would probably be doing the wrong thing. What should have been a win-win situation, became a lose-lose. He took the photo; but what impact did it really have? If anything, there was more debate about the ethics of this photo than the content contained within it. Our society is saturated with images like this; perhaps whatever change they were going to impact has already been exhausted; and therefore, perhaps images like this then serve to desensitize us to the problems at hand. But say he didn't take the photo. Maybe (I stress the maybe), he would have been doing the right thing ethically, but perhaps the case for helping these nations would, in the future, be less supported.

The Good Woman of Bangkok seems a totally different situation. But is it really?
Are O'Rourke's attempts futile? What does putting it on film really achieve? Should government (and thus taxpayer) money have been spent on purhcasing Aoi a rice farm, and even more questionable, spent on O'Rourke hiring a hooker?

In art, much has been said about the benefits of the autonomy of art. That is, it's separation from the praxis of life. This is a notion championed by modernists, who turned their focus away from content and instead focused on the mediums of art practices themselves and what is magically inherent in them. Avant-garde movements felt differently and were convinced that art could impact real change in society.

Ultimately, I think film can be more successful in impacting change. There is something about the distinct 'contracts' that are entered when watching a film that differ from when you enter a gallery. Didactic messages often seem more heavy handed in art than in film; perhaps because films can incorporate more of a narrative, or perhaps because filmmakers often have more tools to, and I fear to say this, manipulate the audience; I'm thinking specifically of editing, music, recreations, interviews etc.

Weekly Response - Week Nine

Personally I think is the most interesting topic we have touched on in the course.

Contained under the rubric of Indigenous Cinema, are discourses which exceed the framework of cinema, and constantly demand attention within Australian society itself.

The issue of the indigenous people of this country is a prickly one, to say the least. Needless to say, the events of the past cast a dark cloud over our present and future relations with those who have inhabited this land for the longest period of time. European settlers came to this land only two hundred years ago and declared it 'terra nullius' because there was no apparent agriculture. The British staunchly believed that they deserved the land, and established settlements here, despite their encroachments onto tribal land. The articles of desire introduced by the white-skins; alcohol, tobacco, gunpowder; not to mention the contingencies of disease and disenfranchisement created severe differences (if nothing else, in numerical terms) between the aborigines and the colonisers.

Things only got worse in the twentieth century, with pieces of governmental policy (both Federal and State) - for instance the Aboriginal Protection Act of 1869 in Victoria. Now the government was legitimately in control of the destiny of this (once romanticised) noble race. Of course, one of the problems with this scenario (this was really the tip of the iceberg), was that the Aboriginal people were disenfranchised, and so played no role in the democracy of Australia (a democracy which was so liberal as to share the vote with women - Australia was quite revolutionary in this respect at the turn of the twentieth century).

Some of the darkest days were to follow; namely the Stolen Generation. The story need not be told, needless to say its horrors speak for themselves.

Lets jump to the present day. There is a pink elephant in the metaphorical room of Australian society. Sure, aboriginals constitute a small fraction of the Australian population, and as is exemplified in Australian cinema (I refer here to Marcia Langton), their absence is as notable as their presence.

Post-colonial thought, expressed by writers such as Franz Fanon and Edward Said, argues that the trauma of the past must be faced in order for it to be overcome. I cannot help but agree with this to a large extent. Films like Rabbit Proof Fence are crucial in educating Australians to the realities of the past. However, how heavy handed are representations such as this? The didactic undercurrent of this film reaches fever pitch at times.

Another problem emerges I believe, in that great changes have taken place since the final intrusions by the Australian government in 1970 (the intrusion I refer to is the forceable removal of children...unfortunately successive Australian governments have dropped the ball on the issue). Different struggles face the Aboriginal people today, and while they may be an accumulation based on the injustices of the past, these new concerns deserve a fresh approach (I want to tread lightly here, because the "Aboriginal problem" is not monolithic).

And how is any of this relevant to our study of cinema?

Do stereotypes of the Aborigines exist/persist? How have they changed? Can the stories of aboriginal people be told by non-Indigenous filmmakers? Are films autonomous of the political concerns of the nation at large?

I would have to argue that stereotypes still exist and I would argue that perhaps recently, an ambivalence has emerged in how they are represented. At once noble, and yet primitive and spiritual, and even downcast, the perpetual underdog, the positioning of the aboriginal in recent films is problematic. This complexity is compounded by the fact that recent films look both to our own backyard, and back one or even two hundred years.

Of course the stories of aboriginal people can be told by non-aboriginal filmmakers. And furhter, along a similar track, I think it is vital that indigenous filmmaker's output not instantly be labelled as 'indigenous' cinema. The notion that utopia for us would be an aboriginal man or woman being cast in a role where their aboriginality is not an issue. The ramifications of this are that white Australians have accepted responsibility for the atrocities of the past, the discrepancies in contemporary society, and aboriginal people have overcome their own personal trauma. The past should never be forgotten, but nor should it act as an anchor restricting real progress in social equality in this nation, and its cinema.