{"id":814,"date":"2022-03-31T20:58:51","date_gmt":"2022-03-31T18:58:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.phil.hhu.de\/anglophoneliteratures\/?p=814"},"modified":"2022-03-31T21:01:36","modified_gmt":"2022-03-31T19:01:36","slug":"the-long-road-leading-up-to-the-australian-film-revival-part-ii","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.phil.hhu.de\/anglophoneliteratures\/2022\/03\/31\/the-long-road-leading-up-to-the-australian-film-revival-part-ii\/","title":{"rendered":"The Long Road Leading up to the Australian Film Revival, Part II"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

(If you haven’t read the first part, check it out here: https:\/\/blogs.phil.hhu.de\/anglophoneliteratures\/2022\/02\/08\/the-long-road-leading-up-to-the-australian-film-revival-part-i\/ )<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Towards the end of the 1960s, Australian film history was at risk of being completely forgotten. The local film industry was in a state of despair that embraced its looming death rather than its true potential. With no proper record or education in place, barely anyone knew about the early pioneers of Australian cinema anymore (Stratton 1). Even the few aspiring directors left in the country were mostly oblivious to their cultural heritage, since all they ever saw in theaters were Hollywood productions (Haltof 2, 4).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The first book solely dedicated to Australian film history tried to change that, but was not published until 1970 (6). John Baxter<\/a>\u2018s The Australian Cinema<\/em> reinstated the importance of the old masters and reflected upon their accomplishments to lay out a path forward. In the final chapter, Baxter wondered what the future may hold for the next generation of Australian filmmakers. Whether they would succumb to \u201cthe public preference for American films and the innate conservatism of the film industry\u201d or if they could overcome these challenges to reestablish \u201ca truly national Australian cinema.\u201d Baxter was confident that Australia had the talent and determination to achieve this goal, but he did not know how it could be accomplished (Malcolm xiii).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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By the 1970s, the solution was obvious. All that the Australian film industry needed was a little governmental support. An incoming set of new policies quickly propelled the struggling industry to previously undreamed of heights. After significant lobbying, Australian politicians were eventually persuaded to create numerous institutions to fund local film production (Haltof 4). Thus, a decade-long “national project” ensued with the mission to create a New Australian Cinema that was dedicated to a “culturally worthwhile” cause (4, 6). This sponsorship extended to almost all \u201cfilms with Australian content\u201d and finally prioritized filmmakers\u2019 artistic visions over investors\u2019 financial concerns (4). However, the tap for all this free flowing cash was soon turned off. Ultimately, the government ended up being just another financial backer who was fed up with failed investments and therefore put measures into place to guarantee safer returns (Stratton 284). Still, a major step in the right direction had been taken which laid the foundation for decades to come (294\u2013295).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Groundwork<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

The first political rumblings over the dissatisfaction of the Australian film industry were heard in a 1963 Senate committee. The chairman Victor Seddon Vincent<\/a> \u201cprovided several recommendations for the future development of the national cinema,\u201d which were, however, largely \u201cignored by the Liberal government led by [Prime Minister] Robert Menzies<\/a>\u201d (Haltof 6). Part of the reason why these pleas fell on deaf ears was because, at the time, there really was no basis to the claim that Australians demanded to see themselves represented on the big screen. Theaters predominantly relied on American movies to fill their seats and politicians saw nothing wrong with that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The case for the necessity of \u201cfilms speaking in a distinct Australian idiom\u201d continued to be rather unconvincing, until They’re a Weird Mob<\/em> (1966)<\/a> arrived (6). This film by the esteemed British film-making duo of Michael Powell<\/a> and Emeric Pressburger<\/a> turned into a landmark release for the Australian market. Even though this was another British production set in Australia, it was actually, for once, extremely respectful of its source material. Pressburger wrote a very faithful adaptation of John O’Grady<\/a>\u2019s novel of the same name<\/a> about a newly arrived Italian immigrant trying to make it in Australia. And Powell went to extraordinary lengths to shoot in authentic Sydney locations and employ local talent, including the iconic Chips Rafferty<\/a>. The result was an \u201cimmensely popular\u201d movie that \u201cenjoyed the longest run any film has ever had at [Greater Union]’s giant State Theatre in Sydney\u201d (Stratton 5). The key ingredient to the film\u2019s success was the comedy that ensued whenever the Italian, who only ever studied textbook English, encountered real working class Australians:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\nhttps:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=GCSKD_pn2Rk\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

In an attempt to follow in the footsteps of They’re a Weird Mob<\/em>, a series of independent films tried to show an equally keen observation of Australian culture. By utilizing low budget film equipment and small crew sizes, directors like Tim Burstall<\/a> were able to pursue more personal and experimental projects that did not require extensive funding (5\u20136). Burstall\u2019s semi-autobiographical 2000 Weeks<\/em> (1969)<\/a>, about a writer running out of time to succeed in life, was \u201cthe first truly indigenous Australian theatrical feature film in many years\u201d (6). It and several other passion projects like it proudly exhibited \u201cthe artistic potential of the local cinema\u201d (Haltof 6), but were met with a lack of trust, respect, and funding that shut them out of a wider theatrical distribution (Stratton 5, 23).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the same time, advocates for the Australian film industry started to mobilize a substantial  lobbying effort (5). In 1965, Robert Menzies had just announced his intention to retire in the following year, so there was hope that a new Prime Minister would be more inclined to offer his support. As Harold Holt<\/a> took office, two groups were formed in favor of  \u201cgovernment intervention and the creation of government bodies responsible for sponsoring the local film industry\u201d (Haltof 7). They resided in the two cultural centers of Sydney and Melbourne, which have had a long history of competing approaches to cinema (Stratton 10).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In Sydney, it was the film editor and producer Anthony Buckley<\/a> who stood up for his profession. Ever since his first assistant job on The Stowaway<\/em> (1958)<\/a>, Buckley had been continually refining his craft, until he was able to produce his own smaller projects (10\u201311). His passion for Australian cinema motivated him to dedicate a sentimental documentary to its cause. Forgotten Cinema: The Golden Age of Australian Motion Pictures<\/em> (1967) \u201cused vintage footage to tell the history of the Australian film industry,\u201d which evoked an overwhelmingly positive reaction during the Sydney Film Festival<\/a>. Moreover, it also attracted the attention of Roland Beckett, who was an influential member of the Producers’ and Directors’ Guild (11). Buckley and Beckett joined forces to create the more inclusive Australian Film Council, which could accommodate every trade of the film industry. Its main objective was to directly address individual members of parliament \u201cwith one powerful voice\u201d (11). Thus, the council invited senators like Doug McClelland<\/a> to private screenings of Forgotten Cinema<\/em> that were followed up with discussions for possible legislation to reign in a new era. This course of action proved fruitful, as McClelland soon spurred on fiery debates, in which he \u201ctold the house that members should \u2018hang their heads in shame\u2019 for not supporting a film industry\u201d (11). After Harold Holt\u2019s untimely death<\/a> in December 1967, the Australian Film Council extended their invitations to the newly anointed Prime Minister, John Gorton<\/a>, who readily accepted. In a speech that concluded their productive dinner party, \u201cGorton indicated for the first time that industry support would be forthcoming\u201d (11).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In Melbourne, Phillip Adams<\/a> quickly followed up on this new momentum. The young advertising executive had become an integral part of the city\u2019s Film Society and International Film Festival<\/a> (11). Because of these deep roots, Adams preferred to form a new coalition out of Melbourne. However, to enter the political landscape, Adams had to ride on the coattails of his close friend and fellow Melburnian, Barry Jones<\/a> (12). After over two hundred appearances of the popular television quiz show Pick a Box<\/em><\/a>, Jones had displayed an \u201cextraordinary encyclopedic\u201d knowledge that made him a national sensation. This launched Jones into a career as host of  \u201cAustralia’s only talkback radio programme and also a television interview programme,\u201d which allowed him to regularly speak to Prime Minister John Gorton (12). Thus, Adams could inform Jones about the pressing issues of the local film scene, which Jones could then use to confront Gorton. Instead of having these two forces work against him, Gorton soon decided to employ them in his favor. Adams and Jones were appointed to an Interim Film Committee, which was chaired by the Member of the New South Wales Parliament, Peter Coleman<\/a>. Together, they \u201cwrote speeches for the prime minister in which he was able to establish himself as a man of cultural sophistication\u201d (13). In consequence, Gorton became more and more convinced that the revival of the film industry would be a good political move for him. To make that a reality, Adams and Jones proposed that they should go on \u201ca world trip to study government-funded industries abroad.\u201d Gorton agreed, and when they returned, they wrote up an official report that detailed the necessary measures. According to the committee\u2019s evaluation, all that the Australian cinema needed to thrive was \u201ca modestly-scaled film industry,\u201d \u201ca film school,\u201d \u201can experimental film fund,\u201d and \u201ca film bank\u201d (13). \u201cGorton \u2018unconditionally accepted\u2019 all of [these] recommendations,\u201d and confirmed shortly thereafter that government support would be forthcoming (Shirley and Adams 235).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Australian Film Revival<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

From that point on, the agenda was set and legislative action followed swiftly behind. The consequential upturn of production marked the 1970s as \u201cthe most interesting period for the Australian film industry\u201d (Haltof 4). \u201cAfter years of artistic inertia,\u201d government institutions provided Australian filmmakers with financial support that resulted in 153 locally produced feature films (4, 6\u20137). A truly momentous achievement, considering that the preceding decade had only yielded 17 feature films (7). Part of the secret of this success story was the fact that the \u200b\u200baverage budget for an Australian film was set at a modest $300,000 to $400,000, which was significantly lower than its American counterpart (7). Thus, limited government resources were spread among more applicants who shared a lowered financial risk that enabled them to focus solely on the domestic market.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The decade started with a bang, as two international productions were officially representing Australia at the 24th Cannes Film Festival<\/a> (Shirley and Adams 246). The uncompromising approach of Ted Kotcheff<\/a>\u2019s Wake in Fright<\/em> (1971)<\/a> and Nicolas Roeg<\/a>\u2019s Walkabout<\/em> (1971)<\/a> redefined Australian cinema by bringing the bleaker aspects of Australian existence to the forefront. Both films pushed the boundaries of the medium with their distressing portrayals of animal cruelty that just narrowly avoided a violation of the Animals Act<\/a> (Hitchens et al. 7). They are also both centered around a shocking existential crisis, which Wake in Fright<\/em> uses for a dark descent into madness, while Walkabout<\/em> prefers a lighter outcome towards self-discovery. Unfortunately, this proved to be too challenging for mainstream audiences who were revolted by them, which led to bad word of mouth and poor box office receipts (Shirley and Adams 245\u2013246). Nevertheless, these two films have since been reappraised as cornerstones of the Australian New Wave and modern masterpieces.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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