Wolf Creek by Sonya Hartnett

Australian screen classics are seminal for a range of reasons: whether it is a particular title’s popularity and impact upon popular culture, its cultural and textual meaning, or what the film tells us about the social, political and cultural climate from which it emerged. Wolf Creek (Greg McLean, 2005) is undoubtedly an Australian screen classic. The film was an impressive low-budget breakout success, which played a big part in the renaissance of contemporary Australian genre cinema by opening doors for genre filmmakers targeting international markets in ways that haven’t been seen in Australia since the 1980s. Wolf Creek has become the quintessential Australian horror movie. It has captured collective national fears and anxieties about the Australian outback – the isolation, the repressive desolation, the idea that the landscape itself is your enemy. It challenges traditional representations of Australian masculinity and the “ocker larrikin” to show a negative image of the rural ocker which dominated Australian screen in the 1970s and, to lesser extent, the 1980s.

Review : "For the Term of His Natural Life" -- Norman Dawn

Synopsis and review of For the Term of His Natural Life (Norman Dawn, 1927). Includes cast and credits. For the Term of His Natural Life was one of the last Australian silent films, and also one of the most significant in the history of Australian cinema. At the time of its production, controversy raged over its depiction of convict life, its scale and cost (which was reported to be around 50,000 pounds at a time when most Australian films had budgets of less than 2,000 pounds1) and the fact that the director, several of the crew and the leading cast members were American. Australasian Films launched a publicity campaign of unprecedented scale to counter opposition to the film’s subject matter and the charge that they were “seeking to make capital out of the drab and sordid days of Australia”.2 The film’s expense was turned into a virtue: hundreds of unemployed men were used as extras, while the film also provided work for many within the Australian film industry and, according to Australasian, enabled the establishment of new production companies. The American imports who earlier had been accused of being “party to the slaughtering” of the Australian film industry, were feted for their artistic contributions, and the concerns raised in federal parliament about an American “invasion” were deflected by claims about what the local industry could learn from those with Hollywood experience.3 The publicity campaign was successful, as the film proved enormously popular at the Australian box office in its initial run. But the coming of sound film in 1928 had a considerable impact on audiences for silent films like For the Term, and its early local success was not repeated in subsequent seasons or in overseas markets...

Writing Indigenous vampires: Aboriginal gothic or Aboriginal fantastic?

The usual postmodern suspicions about diligently deciphering authorial intent or stridently seeking fixed meaning/s and/or binary distinctions in an artistic work aside, this self-indulgent essay pushes the boundaries regarding normative academic research, for it focusses on my own (minimally celebrated) published creative writing’s status as a literary innovation. Dedicated to illuminating some of the less common denominators at play in Australian horror, my paper recalls the creative writing process involved when I set upon the (arrogant?) goal of creating a new genre of creative writing: that of the ‘Aboriginal Fantastic’. I compare my work to the literary output of a small but significant group (2.5% of the population), of which I am a member: Aboriginal Australians. I narrow my focus even further by examining that creative writing known as Aboriginal horror. And I reduce the sample size of my study to an exceptionally small number by restricting my view to one type of Aboriginal horror literature only: the Aboriginal vampire novel, a genre to which I have contributed professionally with the 2011 paperback and 2012 e-book publication of That Blackfella Bloodsucka Dance! However, as this paper hopefully demonstrates, and despite what may be interpreted by some cynical commentators as the faux sincerity of my taxonomic fervour, Aboriginal horror is a genre noteworthy for its instability and worthy of further academic interrogation. (first paragraph)

Sound in the Aboriginal Australian Films of Rolf de Heer

Anna Hickey-Mody and Melissa Iocca invented a new name for the cinema-goer at "Bad Boy Bubby" (1993) when they wrote: "In de Heer's film, the viewer is primarily a listener, or aurator, and secondly a spectator" and I have argued the label 'aurator' can also be used for the person experiencing "Ten Canoes" (2006). This Aboriginal Australian Dreamtime fable features dialogue recorded entirely in the Ganalbingu language of the Indigenous people it stars, and is a prime example of what I would suggest can be labeled 'The Aboriginal Australian Films of Rolf de Heer'. "The Tracker" (2002) and "Dr. Plonk" (2007) have also included depictions of Aboriginal Australians and each of the trio utilizes Cat Hope's "innovative sound ideas" to present what I argue is an aural auteur's signature revealing a post-colonial Australian world-view that privileges the justice system and eco-spirituality of Aboriginal Australians.

Asian representations in films for the Australian Curriculum : an annotated guide

In this annotated guide we offer a reference list, with brief synposes, of possible films for inclusion in schools and linked to the Australian Curriculum: English (AC:E). These films meet one of the three cross curriculum priorities in the Australian Curriculum, which is Studies of Asia, specifically Australia’s contribution to Asia and Asia’s impact on Australia. This priority was recently introduced to curriculum policy in the 2008 Melbourne Declaration (Ministerial Council for Education Early Childhood Development and Youth Affairs, 2008). In this guide we include Australians films made by Asian Australian filmmakers, as well as films about people from Asian countries in Australia, where representations of Asia are a significant part of the film’s content.

Exploring representations of Asian identities in films for the Australian Curriculum

In this paper we focus on one facet of Asia literacy and examine the potential of intercultural understanding through two films about Asians in Australia, as the basis for exploring Asia and Australia’s engagement with Asia 'inside' and not through the more accepted mode of 'outside' the nation. In doing so we foreground how teachers’ critical and imaginative curriculum work can realise some of the promises of the framing document for the current national curriculum project, the Melbourne Declaration (MCEECDYA, 2008). In particular, we focus on opportunities for young people to develop an Asia-related cultural literacy that goes beyond instrumental notions of engagement with Asia and explore the evolving nature of contemporary Australian society; a society that continues to develop in response to regional flows and interactions with people and cultures. To this end we engage with the notion of “diasporic hybridity” as a dynamic cultural space through selected films and literature, about Asia in Australia, in particular, Bondi Tsunami (Lucas, 2004) and Footy Legends (Do, 2006) and selected prose works. Our paper introduces the policy background of the Australian Curriculum and suggests multimodal, English classroom applications for the films and literature under study.

Australian animated feature films

Building on and bringing up to date the material presented in the first installment of Directory of World Cinema : Australia and New Zealand, this volume continues the exploration of the cinema produced in Australia and New Zealand since the beginning of the twentieth century. Among the additions to this volume are in-depth treatments of the locations that feature prominently in the countries' cinema. Essays by leading critics and film scholars consider the significance in films of the outback and the beach, which is evoked as a liminal space in Long Weekend and a symbol of death in Heaven's Burning, among other films. Other contributions turn the spotlight on previously unexplored genres and key filmmakers, including Jane Campion, Rolf de Heer, Charles Chauvel, and Gillian Armstrong.

'We just make the pictures...?' How work is portrayed in children's feature length films

This article explores how adult paid work is portrayed in 'family' feature length films. The study extends previous critical media literature which has overwhelmingly focused on depictions of gender and violence, exploring the visual content of films that is relevant to adult employment. Forty-two G/PG films were analyzed for relevant themes. Consistent with the exploratory nature of the research, themes emerged inductively from the films' content. Results reveal six major themes: males are more visible in adult work roles than women; the division of labour remains gendered; work and home are not mutually exclusive domains; organizational authority and power is wielded in punitive ways; there are avenues to better employment prospects; and status/money is paramount. The findings of the study reflect a range of subject matters related to occupational characteristics and work-related communication and interactions which are typically viewed by children in contemporary society.

Aural auteur : sound in the films of Rolf de Heer

An interpretative methodology for understanding meaning in cinema since the 1950s, auteur analysis is an approach to film studies in which an individual, usually the director, is studied as the author of her or his films. The principal argument of this thesis is that proponents of auteurism have privileged examination of the visual components in a film-maker’s body of work, neglecting the potentially significant role played by sound. The thesis seeks to address this problematic imbalance by interrogating the creative use of sound in the films written and directed by Rolf de Heer, asking the question, “Does his use of sound make Rolf de Heer an aural auteur?” In so far as the term ‘aural’ encompasses everything in the film that is heard by the audience, the analysis seeks to discover if de Heer has, as Peter Wollen suggests of the auteur and her or his directing of the visual components (1968, 1972 and 1998), unconsciously left a detectable aural signature on his films. The thesis delivers an innovative outcome by demonstrating that auteur analysis that goes beyond the mise-en-scène (i.e. visuals) is productive and worthwhile as an interpretive response to film. De Heer’s use of the aural point of view and binaural sound recording, his interest in providing a ‘voice’ for marginalised people, his self-penned song lyrics, his close and early collaboration with composer Graham Tardif and sound designer Jim Currie, his ‘hands-on’ approach to sound recording and sound editing and his predilection for making films about sound are all shown to be examples of de Heer’s aural auteurism. As well as the three published (or accepted for publication) interviews with de Heer, Tardif and Currie, the dissertation consists of seven papers refereed and published (or accepted for publication) in journals and international conference proceedings, a literature review and a unifying essay. The papers presented are close textual analyses of de Heer’s films which, when considered as a whole, support the thesis’ overall argument and serve as a comprehensive auteur analysis, the first such sustained study of his work, and the first with an emphasis on the aural.

Towards an understanding of Australian genre cinema and entertainment : beyond the limitations of ‘Ozploitation’ discourse

While Australian cinema has produced popular movie genres since the 1970s, including action/adventure, road movies, crime, and horror movies, genre cinema has occupied a precarious position within a subsidised national cinema and has been largely written out of film history. In recent years the documentary Not Quite Hollywood (2008) has brought Australia’s genre movie heritage from the 1970s and 1980s back to the attention of cinephiles, critics and cult audiences worldwide. Since its release, the term ‘Ozploitation’ has become synonymous with Australian genre movies. In the absence of discussion about genre cinema within film studies, Ozploitation (and ‘paracinema’ as a theoretical lens) has emerged as a critical framework to fill this void as a de facto approach to genre and a conceptual framework for understanding Australian genres movies. However, although the Ozploitation brand has been extremely successful in raising the awareness of local genre flicks, Ozploitation discourse poses problems for film studies, and its utility is limited for the study of Australian genre movies. This paper argues that Ozploitation limits analysis of genre movies to the narrow confines of exploitation or trash cinema and obscures more important discussion of how Australian cinema engages with popular movies genres, the idea of Australian filmmaking as entertainment, and the dynamics of commercial filmmaking practises more generally.

Flagging Spaces : exploring the myth of the Australian beach as an egalitarian space

The Australian beach is now accepted as a significant part of Australian national culture and identity. However, Huntsman (2001) and Booth (2001) both believe that the beach is dying: “intellectuals have failed to apply to the beach the attention they have lavished on the bush…” (Huntsman 2001, 218). Yet the beach remains a prominent image in contemporary literature and film; authors such as Tim Winton and Robert Drewe frequently set their stories in and around the coast. Although initially considered a space of myth (Fiske, Hodge, and Turner 1987), Meaghan Morris labelled the beach as ‘ordinary’ (1998), and as recently as 2001 in the wake of the Sydney Olympic Games, Bonner, McKee, and Mackay termed the beach ‘tacky’ and ‘familiar’. The beach, it appears, defies an easy categorisation. In fact, I believe the beach is more than merely mythic or ordinary, or a combination of the two. Instead it is an imaginative space, seamlessly shifting its metaphorical meanings dependent on readings of the texts. My studies examine the beach through five common beach myths; this paper will explore the myth of the beach as an egalitarian space. Contemporary Australian national texts no longer conform to these mythical representations – (in fact, was the beach ever a space of equality?), instead creating new definitions for the beach space that continually shifts in meaning. Recent texts such as Tim Winton’s Breath (2008) and Stephen Orr’s Time’s Long Ruin (2010) lay a more complex metaphorical meaning upon the beach space. This paper will explore the beach as a space of egalitarianism in conjunction with recent Australian fiction and films in order to discover how the contemporary beach is represented.

That's a rap : the making of an Australian hip hop integrated musical film

To date, the majority of films that utilise or feature hip hop music and culture, have either been in the realms of documentary, or in ‘show musicals’ (where the film musical’s device of characters’ bursting into song, is justified by the narrative of a pursuit of a career in the entertainment industry). Thus, most films that feature hip hop expression have in some way been tied to the subject of hip hop. A research interest and enthusiasm was developed for utilising hip hop expression in film in a new way, which would extend the narrative possibilities of hip hop film to wider topics and themes. The creation of the thesis film Out of My Cloud, and the writing of this accompanying exegesis, investigates a research concern of the potential for the use of hip hop expression in an ‘integrated musical’ film (where characters’ break into song without conceit or explanation). Context and rationale for Out of My Cloud (an Australian hip hop ‘integrated musical’ film) is provided in this writing. It is argued that hip hop is particularly suitable for use in a modern narrative film, and particularly in an ‘integrated musical’ film, due to its: current vibrancy and popularity, rap (vocal element of hip hop) music’s focus on lyrical message and meaning, and rap’s use as an everyday, non-performative method of communication. It is also argued that Australian hip hop deserves greater representation in film and literature due to: its current popularity, and its nature as a unique and distinct form of hip hop. To date, representation of Australian hip hop in film and television has almost solely been restricted to the documentary form. Out of My Cloud borrows from elements of social realist cinema such as: contrasts with mainstream cinema, an exploration/recognition of the relationship between environment and development of character, use of non-actors, location-shooting, a political intent of the filmmaker, displaying sympathy for an underclass, representation of underrepresented character types and topics, and a loose narrative structure that does not offer solid resolution. A case is made that it may be appropriate to marry elements of social realist film with hip hop expression due to common characteristics, such as: representation of marginalised or underrepresented groups and issues in society, political objectives of the artist/s, and sympathy for an underclass. In developing and producing Out of My Cloud, a specific method of working with, and filming actor improvisation was developed. This method was informed by improvisation and associated camera techniques of filmmakers such as Charlie Chaplin, Mike Leigh, Khoa Do, Dogme 95 filmmakers, and Lars von Trier (post-Dogme 95). A review of techniques used by these filmmakers is provided in this writing, as well as the impact it has made on my approach. The method utilised in Out of My Cloud was most influenced by Khoa Do’s technique of guiding actors to improvise fairly loosely, but with a predetermined endpoint in mind. A variation of this technique was developed for use in Out of My Cloud, which involved filming with two cameras to allow edits from multiple angles. Specific processes for creating Out of My Cloud are described and explained in this writing. Particular attention is given to the approaches regarding the story elements and the music elements. Various significant aspects of the process are referred to including the filming and recording of live musical performances, the recording of ‘freestyle’ performances (lyrics composed and performed spontaneously) and the creation of a scored musical scene involving a vocal performance without regular timing or rhythm. The documentation of processes in this writing serve to make the successful elements of this film transferable and replicable to other practitioners in the field, whilst flagging missteps to allow fellow practitioners to avoid similar missteps in future projects. While Out of My Cloud is not without its shortcomings as a short film work (for example in the areas of story and camerawork) it provides a significant contribution to the field as a working example of how hip hop may be utilised in an ‘integrated musical’ film, as well as being a rare example of a narrative film that features Australian hip hop. This film and the accompanying exegesis provide insights that contribute to an understanding of techniques, theories and knowledge in the field of filmmaking practice.

Must see TV : mapping an Australian mediasphere

Australian National Cinema and Australian Television Culture. These two books, magisterial accounts of Australian media cultures, are very different. The first analyses (according to its cover blurb) 'the distinct and diverse nature of Australian cinema'; the second offers 'a picture of Australian television'. The books share an author.2 Despite this, their objects of study are constituted very differently. The first is replete with examples of particular films, analyses of their representational strategies, and links to the social context of production. The second addresses almost no programs and those that are mentioned appear only in passing. There is no analysis of any particular television text. The difference between these books cannot be explained in terms of authorial fickleness: rather, it represents the different ways in which television and film have been constructed as objects of study. While film has a recognised canon and a tradition of close textual analysis, in the study of television the programs themselves have tended to vanish - as they do in Australian Television Culture. Most academic work on Australian television is not interested in its programs. Writers have tended to find other aspects more rewarding: industries, institutions, ownership, legislation, technology and production.3 Australian Television Culture is part of this tradition; and an example of how such work, done well, can be a useful contribution to understanding the medium.

From liberation to appropriation : corsets and eroticism in Australian film

The corset, with its laces and stays, appears to the modern eyes little more than a stylish torture device. However, the corset enjoyed a reputation among the most fashionable women of the nineteenth century. Since small waists were the primary measure of corporeal beauty, corsets were nearly universal among Western women of the middle class upwards. Wearing a corset was also a marker of decency; only lower classes and women of dubious reputation did not wear corsets. From instrument of torture and symbol of submission to its appropriation by women as a marker of sexual liberation, the corset has gone under a sartorial and symbolic transformation remaining the most erotic element of women’s dress. This paper discusses the corset in two Australian films, Picnic at Hanging Rock (Peter Weir, 1974) and Moulin Rouge (Baz Luhrman, 2001), arguing that the corset provides a counterpoint in each film signifying the tension between beauty and respectability, on the one hand, and desire and transgression, on the other. We argue that the corset is the primary prop around which the narrative revolves as well as the key signifying hook for the audience. The fact that erotic motifs are so rare in Australian films makes the centrality of the corset in these films even more powerful as a discursive trope