The View from Elsewhere

cinema Alice

Inspired by the example of my young friends who managed to get The Proposition shown here at the end of last year, I rang up the local cinema and asked them if they had any plans to show Brokeback Mountain or Goodnight and Good Luck in the near future....These may sound like tawdry choices but they're the closest to crossover films I could imagine the Alice cinema showing.

Girl on the other end of the phone: What?

I repeat myself all over again.

Girl: I've never heard of those films.

Me: Well, could you find out if there's any chance that they'll be shown here?

Girl: We have a list of films that we could get, then we choose which films we'll show ...I could see if they're on the list....(shuffles around, looks for list, asks for names of films again, looks at list)...no, they're not there...

Me: Could I put in a request that you show them?

Girl: Well, it all depends if they're on the list.  We can't choose them, unless they're on the list.  They might be on the next list, but we don't know if they will be?

Me: I don't mean to be a pain, but it would be nice to have some of adult films showing here that have just been released for the new year in other parts of the country.  I know it's the school holidays and you've got to show a lot of kids films at the moment, but it would be good to have some adult films too.

Girl:  But we do have adult films showing at the moment.  We have King Kong and Fun with Dick and Jane...

I don't they share the same definition of adult films, unless there's something I missed about Fun with Dick and Jane.  But never fear; the Flickerfest is coming soon.

the post-narnia post

Yes, well, things from childhood always do look smaller when you return to them in adulthood.  Initially, I thought that Narnia was off to a good start with the blitz, the retreat to the country and the finding of the wardrobe.  But from there on, it disappointed, perhaps because it couldn't live up to my childhood memories, perhaps because the film paled besides LOTR and Peter Jackson's production values, perhaps because nothing equals the opening device of the wardrobe in the rest of the plot and no other characters are quite as charming as the camp Mr Tumnus who appears fairly early on.

I asked myself whether I would enjoy the film if I was a child these days (who hadn't read the book), and the answer is probably negative.  I do think we've all been rather spoiled by now with wonderful special effects and great production values so a book featuring talking animals and some hand-to-hand fighting makes something of a ho-hum film spectacle.

Watching Narnia, I couldn't help making comparisons with LOTR, both the book and the film.  LOTR has a far more developed cosmology and sense of 'world': Narnia is pretty thin in comparison.  I know this is probably overly analytical (and such questions never occured to me as a child) but why, for eg, are there talking beasts in Narnia? (I think we find this out in book 6).  And why are dryads, centaurs and satyrs also in this world (because CSL liked them?) and why are some types of mythical creatures good guys and others bad guys?  It all seemed pretty arbitrary to me, without much explanation, whereas there is a strong of history and social strata (and of course languages) in LOTR.  The special effects and sense of 'world' are also pretty well-fleshed in Peter Jackson's LOTR (one suspects he could have done a better job of Narnia on even a shoestring budget): I was really drawn in by the first film of the series (nearly jumped out of my skin a few times) tho I did get used to it all by films 2 & 3.

The plot in Narnia was depressingly slender, after the wardrobe bit.  I'd forgotten most of it, except the beginning and the end, but I kept on thinking, 'surely there was more to it than this?' Afterwards, at home, I flicked through the book (yes, the original from my parent's lounge room, which cost 65c): but alas, the plot looked depressingly slender, tho the Pauline Baynes illustrations were great. I felt the book would probably have fared better with a BBC blow-by-blow treatment to draw out more of the plot and subtext, and to develop more of the sense of 'world'. As for the Christian allegory (which Pullman rightly suggests is more Manichaean than Christian)...it was pretty obvious to me at the age of 6 what it was about, tho watching the film with the knowledge of CSL's take on myth, I could see some of the lines given to Aslan were meant to suggest that his was a sacrifice emblematic of all sacrifices in myth and hence the greatest sacrifice of all (a nuance lost on me 34 years ago, certainly).

As for characters -- one of the most depressing characterisations in the film has to be that of Lucy, who's really the protagonist (even if CSL does gender stereotype, he often has inquisitive, questing female protagonists and bad boys as foils, whom I suspect were based on himself as a snotty-nosed schoolboy).  Georgie whatever-her-name-is alternated between acting like a retard and a miniature middle-aged woman.  I suspect half her problem was that she was maybe a 9 yo instructed to act like a 6 yo, when it would have been better if she'd acted like a 9 yo (surely Lucy was about 9; it's implied that Susan and Peter are young teens). Both she and the boy playing Edmund seem to have been encouraged to mispronounce their 'r's at times, which along with all the other fond British tweeness invoked by the film, was intensely irritating. Susan and Edmund were reasonable renditions, Peter was rather wet in the big brotherly role, but perhaps he always was wet.

Tilda Swinton was of course good tho she might have been even better with a more challenging script (and how dare she continue to look so good!).  In the latter half of the film, I wondered tho whether she suddenly decided she would like to have a go at playing Boadicea.  Liam Neeson as the honey-toned voice of Aslan -- a little odd, maybe, but less annoying than the over-animated beavers (voiced by Ray Winstone and Dawn French respectively).  Tumnus (Matthew McEvoy) without a doubt gives the most winning performance of the film, as a kind of coy gayboy in furry rave pants and a scarf.

The sets at times seemed derivative of LOTR but not as good (cf. the White Witch's palace vs Sauron's, the galacial mountain scenes).  The best scene was probably the melting of the glacier or whatever it was.  There was a certain stagnant quality to a lot of the sets which was very disappointing (I suspect they filmed most of it in studios as opposed to on location somewhere like NZ).  I thought the trees in particular were terrible, especially in the opening scenes: the woods are meant to be alive, filled with tree spirits and spies but they all seemed pretty dead to me.

So overall, yes, I didn't find it particularly engrossing, and I did find myself fidgeting and looking around the cinema in the second half of the film.  In retrospect, the later, darker Narnian chronicles gripped me more than Wardrobe, like The Silver Chair and The Magician's Nephew (the latter having to be the pick of the bunch), tho I found The Last Battle depressing.  The Magician's Nephew, chronologically the first in the series tho written much later, might have been a more interesting starting point.

Thanks for the comments, people.  I often have no idea which posts are going to draw comment; I suspect the kids-lit subject matter appeals to the book farty-ness inherent in many bloggers.

Pavlov -- I have issues with HP, the main one being that the fantasy in it isn't as good as I remember it being in other fantasy books (i.e. I'm no longer a kid), and the secondary, related issue being that it all seems highly derivative and not as good as CSL, Susan Cooper, Ursula le Guin, etc.  But after watching Wardrobe last night, I must admit that many of Rowling's characterisations are quite witty (tho there are some v good Narnian characters, like Tumnus and Puddleglum) and that the plots can be darkly engrossing.  I struggled a bit with the adult Lewis poetic sf, tho I liked his rendering of the Cupid and Psyche myth, Till We Have Faces.

Jonathan -- It might interest you to know that I recently had a look back at George MacDonald's The Princess and the Goblin, with which I was also suitably entranced when I was about 8-10, because Cassandra Golds' latest kids fantasy book reminded me of it in tone and subject matter (to a degree).  But all the stuff about the grandmother in the attic etc had nowhere near the sway that it did for me then, and there were long, boring passages (about Curdie and his father) that I remember skimming as a child.  Nevertheless, I'd say it was probably a better book than Wardrobe, tho I could never get into any of that esoteric fantasist stuff he wrote, like Phantastes and Lilith.

Myths and idioms

<Dr Tan beside caterpillar paintings>

I've just spent three days with the aforementioned Dr Tan driving up and down the West & East MacDonnell Ranges.  Dr Tan was fairly impressed by the Ranges...I think people expect to be impressed by Uluru and are quite surprised by the natural grandeur on tap in Alice.  He was also impressed by the mythology of the giant caterpillars surrounding the Ranges, the ancestral beings that shaped the landscape.  It's actually quite hard to find any extensive info on the caterpillar mythology behind the Ranges (ditto history of Alice still in print).  I have a small book called A Town like Mparntwe with some 'fragments' of story in it, but most of my knowledge seems to have been gleaned from signage, which abounds in Alice.  (I think I've talked about the caterpillars earlier in the blog, so I wont go into detail again.)

After a while, Dr Tan thought the caterpillar metaphorics were growing thin, and suggested an alternative mythology in which giant spaceships were buried underground, pushing up the ridge formations.  This led to speculations about a sci-fi narrative in which a Harry Potter figure would uncover the ginat spaceships.  'Harry Lee', a child orphaned after the tragic death of his mother (platyed by Gong Li), would be sent to Alice to live with his cruel relatives who run the local Chinese restaurant, the Golden Staph.  Harry lives a precarious existence, in a broom closet under the stairs (natch), polishing chopsticks and greasing lazy susans late at night when most children are in bed.  He sleeps with a Mah Jong tile tied in a knotted handkerchief under his pillow to remind him of his mother (the only remaining tile from her Mah Jong set).  One night, the Mah Jong tile begins to speak to him in his sleep, telling him of the subterranean existence of the powerful aliens who flew the spaceships to Alice to create the MacDonnell Ranges.

That's as far as we got in this potentially best-selling junior fiction narrative.  Any further suggestions are welcome.  The other thing Dr Tan was dubious about were the reports of 'whistlecocking' (subincision): 'I do not like to think of this,' he said eloquently.  (I must admit my sources are pretty sketchy, largely anecdotal.)  I suspect we can't bring whistlecocking into the Harry Lee narrative.

One day when we was looking for the start of a bushwalk track, a man called out to us, 'Don't worry, she's an easy walk!'  Dr Tan was rather fascinated by this use of the first pers fem pron, despite having previously lived in Australia for about a decade, and being thoroughly familiar with the phrase 'she'll be right.'  I suggested that it was an extension of the general practice of calling cars, ships, cyclones, etc, 'her'.  I guess what intrigued us both was the proximity of this phrase to 'she's an easy lay' -- an easy lay of the land?

I'm now in Melbourne (I've left a message on your phone, Angus).  Before our plane touched down this evening, the pilot signed off with a ditty that went: 'Thank you for choosing to fly Qantas.  We look forward to seeing your faces when next you fly with us again.'  I felt it was obviously a ditty composed for tongue-tied pilots unable to come up with their own lines (and to reinforce the party line).  But choosing to fly Qantas?  There's hardly any flights on offer from Virgin for Alice residents any more.  And 'when next you fly'?  A little quaint, maybe, somehow evocative of Sunday School songs.

Oh well, it was better than that other Qantas clanger they used to play on their safety tape: 'Subtly every air cabin is different.'  Call me a pedant, but shouldn't it be: 'Every air cabin is subtly different'?

First thought on speeding down the Tullarmarine highway in the Skybus: 'Gloom!  How exciting!'  Followed by 'Overcoats!  And knee-high boots!  How novel!'

Tupperware sluttage

Ok, slightly sloshed after a dinner party and watching Denton at the same time...let's see if I can do this post justice...

I got invited to a tupperware party last Friday night.  I've never been invited to a tupperware party before.  Being invited to a tupperware party is something a girl yearns for, along with being given items for her trousseau.

My mother went to a tupperware party once.  She came back home with some truly exotic items of plastic, including a red squeezer thing for tomato sauce, which she had to cut the snout off (slightly) because the sauce wasn't coming out smoothly enough.

Anyway, I was invited to the tupperware party by a nurse.  For some reason, I seem to have a knack for befriending nurses.  My sister once said scornfully: 'Elsewhere knows all these nurses!' (meaning, she's got something wrong with her, attracting all these caring types).  But there is a point to befriending nurses.  Generally, they're backbone-of-the-community, high-moral-fibre types, often with a great sense of humour, and they can provide you with inside info on the health system in times of crisis. 

Nurses come in roughly three genres, I find.  There is the madcap, black-humoured, borderline personality disorder, sometimes lesbian nurse, to be found working in intensive care units and psych wards (in space, no one can hear you scream).  Then there is the prim, slim, good-looking, extremely orderly, efficient doctor-hunting type.  And there's the general, all-purpose, good value, heart-of-gold, slightly overweight, moral-fibre type nurse.

M, my entre into tupperware land, was from the third category.  I'll just say that she's from work, without giving any further details. She's also a 'triathlete' in the way that I'm a 'cyclist'. The first time she invited me to the tupperware thang, I thought, hmm, maybe I'll just let that pass and see if she forgets about it.  But then, late on Friday afternoon, she tracked me down and wrote down details of the tupperware meet.   So I really I couldn't desist (especially given my great curiosity about tupperware).

I went expecting Julianne Moore, repression and fan-out, fifties-style dresses.  Instead, there were Gappies, triatheletes and nurses gathered under a carport, in fleeces and thermals (it's cold here in the mornings and evenings at present).  An American with a coiled plaited bun who looked like a Amish woman in mufti was making cocktails with a bamix in a tupperware container.  (It was a cocktail party, apparently).  People listened appreciatively to her pearls of wisdom.  I wished I could have taken notes of her discourse (but it would have been rude).  So, this is what I can remember from that evening:

'It comes in "moss"  or "curry curry", with a non-burping seal.'

'Until I had modular mates, I never had enough space in my fridge.'

'"Illusions" glassware comes with a lifetime guarantee, so long as you don't use them in the dishwasher.

'Everytime you use a can-opener, bacteria is transferred from can to can, unless you sterilise it in between'  (or buy the special tupperware can-opener)

Okay, so was I tempted?  I'll admit, the retro non-burping seal, burnt orange cannisters did hold a certain allure for me.  However, I'll further admit, I am my mother's daughter, and I was simply shocked by some of the prices, despite the lifetime guarantee.

Some shorts (Denton is getting more interesting now): Vera Drake -- I don't have any problems with the subject matter here, but I wasn't too sure whether to be entertained or irritated by the sentimentalisation of the '50s British working class in this film.  Were we being treated to the lost history of Mrs Glum's life as a secret abortionist (remember The Glums radio serial, complete with 'Ron and Eth in arr frunt r',m' ?)? Thought a French film made on the same subject several years ago (abortionist in WW2, played by Isabelle Huppert) was far more interesting, probably because the lead character was a far more complex and ambivalent character, rather than a wholesome, cup-of-tea-toting one. Also irritated by some of Imelda Staunton and her 'daughter's' prolonged, trembling lipped, Stanislavksi moments: 'er..er..er...er...ah...ah...ah...ah...', etc.  Felt like saying, 'spit it out, love!'  Afterwards, there were people sobbing and saying what a good movie it was (it was well-made) as I walked out.  Felt a right heal.  Three stars from me.

Dr Who -- admittedly, I watched this while engrossed in the operation of my Sunbeam easy-to-clean contact grill, but this first episode did seem rather piecemeal, all the same.  Nick, agree with feeling of having seen Rose before but felt she was what my mother would have called a 'blowsy blonde.'  Wondered if part of my problem with show was that I'm not pre-pubsecent and that's who the target audience was. Thought C/Eccleston made a valiant effort to make the good Dr more hip and interesting. But wasn't that store dummy/android line from a series during the Pertwee days? Ermmm, I might give it a couple more tries...two-and-a-half stars so far.

Campers

Last night I went to see the second screening of UsMob, a series of short films about four kids living in a town camp in Alice, made by local film-maker David Vadiveloo.  M, A & I tried seeing these films when they were first screened the weekend before last but they were packed out.  We didn't have hope of getting in.  This time round, there was a smaller crowd and a couple of busloads of kids from the town camps.

There are approximately 1500 people living in 18 town camps on special purpose leases in Alice.  It's a bit difficult to explain what a town camp is.  In some senses, they're 'fringe' camps, whose use dates back to when Aboriginal people weren't allowed within a 6 km radius of the town (or was is it a 8 or 9 km radius? I can't quite remember.)  Traditional people (the Arrernte) set up camp nevertheless on what was their land.  These camps have evolved over time, and people from family groups within and outside town live there for a variety of reasons.  I'm a bit wary of calling the camps 'ghettoes' or 'shanty towns', because of the negative connotations of these terms (and we are after all talking about what is 'home' to a lot of people), but the infrastructure and services in these camps is pretty poor.  Opinions on the town camps vary widely and are often quite controversial.  Some, for example, want the camps razed to the grounds as they were in Moree (tho the alternative here of moving people into public housing brings another set of issues with it, including further 'ghetto' potential).  There is continuing friction at local and territory government levels about the provision of essential services to the town camps, and no doubt multiple agendas behind this debate (e.g. we wont do this properly or claim any responsibility in this regard, or it might look as tho we're encouraging the town campers to stay). 

UsMob gives an appealing insight into the everyday lives of the families living on the town camps.  The actors were mainly locals, as far as I could tell (amused to see one of the cycling tjilpis playing the school bus driver).  I'm pleased to say that I thought some of the kids put in the best performances. Some of these films are more lighthearted than others; there are several dealing with more serious issues like love & skin groups, land rights and the wealth gap in Alice.  At times I felt the signposting of more serious themes was a little heavyhanded, but the films are intended for a young rather than adult audience, after all. There are seven short films with three 'interactive' endings for each; you can workshop your preferences for these endings via the UsMob website.  I presume these films will get a guernsey at a few film festivals but I think the main audience is meant to be schoolies via the net.  Overall, I thought this was a pretty good initiative, especially in destigmatising the lives of these kids and creating rapport with the rest of the community (particularly kids; there's much cheekiness and rawness that will appeal to other kids).  Also interesting to see that town camper kids spend much time outside playing with other kids and riding bikes great distances (like we used to). Hope this is true; if it is, it's much more healthy (if only in that regard in that regard) than the lifestyle of many inner-city 'little emperors and empresses.'  So, yes, visit the website and see what you think -- a different film from the series is to be screened there every week.

Wee wee girls A-list

I've been meditating on why it should have seemed such an outrage that Gwynneth should have pipped Cate at the post for an Oscar (apart from the fact that the latter is a better actress)?  Or that Nic should have won an Oscar for putting on a false nose and staring a lot in The Hours? 

Acting ability aside, what I've come up with is that they're both wee-wee girls. The most immediate definition of this term that springs to mind is: seemingly insipid and lacking in personality; sometimes overly girly and gushing.  Also accompanied by a sense that they've let the side down.  I'm not alone in this.   As a former colleague of mine (a Blacktown girl) said of Our Nic: 'Can't stand the woman, or her other little pal from Mosman!'

Anyway, I've set about compiling an A-list of wee wee girls and one of non-wee wee girls:

Wee wee girl A-list

Gwynneth

Our Nic

NSD

Nikki Gemmell

Doris Day

Bettina Arndt

Anne (Famous Five)

Sarah Jane (Dr Who assistant)

Non-wee wee A list

Toni Colette

Cate Blanchett

Hilary Swank

Kate Winslett

Kate Hepburn

Julia Gillard

Rachel Griffiths

George (Famous Five)

Romana (Dr Who assistant)

It's actually quite tricky (and I'm not sure I'm being totally fair on DD) as some potential wee wee girls prove to have some mettle (e.g. Charlotte on S&tC), nuttiness (e.g. Renee Zellweger) or rock-the-boat-ness (e.g. Lady Di) which makes them hard to place.  And Naomi Watts has put in some good performances recently.

I would probably put ‘Buffy’ on the non-wee wee list, but don’t think I’ve watched enough episodes to make a fair assessment.  I considered SJP for the non-wee wee girls, but she does all that fawning and simpering stuff (and why she doesn’t just go: ‘hell, I’m throwing it all in and starting up a shoe factory.’)  Also know that some people wouldn't consider Cate Blanchett a non-wee wee-er (too 'composed').

There seem to be a high prevalence of ‘Nic’s and ‘N’ names there, and ‘Kate’s in the second list, tho perhaps that’s just mental association on my part.  Lots of 'stars' there -- because they're more public image setters than other women?  Or is it just that I watch too many films?

Thought that ‘Leela’ (Dr Who assistant) was maybe just too ‘animal’ to be considered for either list. 

Ok, I don't want to get too much into the tub-thumping feminist thing (remember the ‘strong women’ thing from the 80s/early 90s, which got a bit boring after a while -- like how Meryl Streep and Jessica Lange were always being praised for their ‘strong but sensitive’ portrayals?)  But a few more definitional suggestions:

The wee wee girl anticipates the frame of social approval and sticks herself in it.

The wee wee girl wont risk the loss of male approval/attention.

The non-wee wee girl seems to be outside the frame; self-directing, even a little eccentric.

Non-wee wee girl is not afraid to be ‘fat’ at times (n.b. Gwynneth had to wear a ‘fat suit’).

Actually, it was a lot easier for me to come up with examples of non-wee wee girls.  Which raised the important question of: Are wee wee girls in decline?  Or is it just that since I don’t normally fill my life with wee wee girls, it’s difficult for me to uncover them?

ADDENDUM: Coy female lurker has mailed me with further suggestions:

More qualifications for la jeune fille wee wee:

Exhibitionism combined with desperate, teary fear of being judged.

Suspicious desperately willed transformation - this would easily encompass Nicole's loss of freckles, and Mary's freshly minted Danish-accented English (have been taking savage
pleasure in the "outing" of Mary's deportment classes, and the pic the Sun-Herald ran of her, fat-faced, Sally-Boyden/Naomi-Wolfesque "do" next to ... shit! who was it? - ah yes, Sarah O'Hare in her modelling days.)

I did give Mary some thought, actually, but decided she should be allowed a bit more of a run before I cast final judgement, in case of revealing Zellweger-esque zany-ness or Lady-Di-style lunacy.

I've always thought that she & Prince Frederick looked like the couple from Toytown, and that she looked like a startled china mouse in some of the early photos.  (And does anyone else think that Prince Fred seems like a bit of a dud -- i.e. an NVB?)

Watched Andrew Denton i/v with some fascination (but only the once; couldn't face it a second time).  Half like AD for trying to pry out the info that no one else would have audacity to pry out, half dislike him for strange obsequiousness -- e.g. just how many times did he have to say 'Your Highness' in that interview.  Also, AD is strange misty-eyed romantic intent on drawing out everyone's soppy love story (suspect this is because he is a former nerd).

Intrigued by fact that during the entire interview Princess Mary managed to keep her shoulders in back and down position that physio & sports dr would like me to emulate -- perhaps I should go to June Dally Watkins Deportment lessons myself!

And what is all this supposed royalty about  -- she's not really our royalty, is she?  Chazzer is, and god bless him, no one took that much notice of him when he touched down today in Alice wearing a serious suit in 40 C heat on the tarmac -- would have thought it was a day for socks and sandals, myself, or perhaps the old safari suit! ( N.B. erroneous announcement by ABC that he opened his tour in a 'town like Alice' -- twas in fact Alice herself!)

Back under the stars...

‘Lesbians, US military personnel, backpackers and camels … this is what makes the red centre so attractive!’ I found this statement by a former colleague in an old newsletter, joking about why he'd come to work in Alice. I just put it there because I found it amusing. This weekend my new swag became even more encrusted with red dust, but from more movie-watching under the stars rather than camping.  I was invited to a screening of Badlands at a caravan park.  We had to drive out on a fairly rural road and the only indication of the turn-off was an old tin sign at the side of the road with 'FILM' painted on it.  This struck me as very Alice.  We drove down a dirt road to a clearing where an old 16 mm projector and a small screen was set up.  Everyone had brought some food which was spread out on the tray of an old ute with the back down.  There were a dozen or so lesbians, a baby, some dogs and a straight man parked on swags in front of the screen.  A large, quiet, bear-ish man, who seemed to be responsible for the evening, was behind the projector.  It was like stumbling on a secret society, but no gold masks and naked Stanley Kubrikesque women, fortunately.  I enjoyed Badlands.  I thought it was going to be good, but it exceeded my expectations.  I particularly enjoyed Sissy Spacek's deadpan, schizoid commentary on her pathological boyfriend's killing sprees. Next weekend, the travelling Sydney Film Festival is coming to Alice.  This will be an indoor gig, sadly.  There's something very seductive about being able to recline on a swag under the stars and watch an evening of films.

Flickery fest

The last few nights, I’ve been attending the Flickerfest, which is now touring Alice. This is one of the good things about Alice – as a regional centre, it gets more than its fair share of travelling cultural events, more so than places like Orange or Wangaratta, I suspect. It seems this is a by-product of the place’s strong interest and participation in the arts and culture industries, and maybe, just because it’s such a central, exotic destination.

So Flickerfest in Alice – roll up, and spread a blanket or a swag, spray on some aerogard to ward off the macro-mossies. Then lie back and enjoy the novelty of hearing French, German and Spanish spoken, and catching glimpses of other people’s lives and imagination from around the world, beneath the desert stars. The screen has been erected in the lawn area adjacent to the Araluen, pretty much where my former, former boss’s ‘ladies’ were charged about a year ago, for indecent exposure while practising their traditional dance. (Last year some of the ladies crept in and sat in the grass at the side of the screen, chortling away, no doubt at the folly of the balanda (sorry, don’t know the Anangu word for non-Anangu).

I went to the first couple of nights of Flickerfest alone – one of the good things about being a singleton is, I guess, that you can just be selfish and do what you want. I mean, I’ve spent whole weeks in the past, luxuriating in a film festival. But I couldn’t lure my friends here to the fest until Sunday night. Unlike previous friends I’ve had, y’know, black-turtleneck-garbed, introspective types who thought nothing of spending hours reading Badiou or Zizek in a dimly lit café, my friends here tend to be social workers, teachers and lawyers who don’t feel quite the same level of necessity to see absolutely every film that comes to Alice as I do. But going by yourself isn’t such a bad thing as you end up talking to other people you only know vaguely rather than just chatting with your friends.

Anyway, that being said, Flickerfest this year has turned out largely to be a good thing. Last year when I went, and I don’t think my perspective was jaundiced by unaccustomed heat prostration, I wasn’t that impressed by Flickerfest. (I still don’t really like Harvey Krumpet, that Aussie animated short that won the Oscar either last year, though I’m glad of course that ‘we’ won it – thought the film was way too heavyhanded in its pc content.) I think that short films are hard to pull off, in the way that short stories are, in that you can’t rely on a longer narrative to cut you a bit of slack. You have to get things pretty well spot on, or it’s too obvious when you’ve stuffed up. The temptation to be twee or flighty also seems to be something of a trap for the short film maker.

So, I was pleasantly surprised this year as most of the Flickerfest offerings have been very good indeed. A particular favourite of mine was Yu Ming is Ainm Dom, a story about a Chinese boy who decides he wants to live in Eire, learns Gaelic – and is flummoxed when no one can understand him, except for one old man in a pub. It was of special significance to me, as I learn Irish Gaelic in third year Uni – and when I went to Eire, none of my relatives could understand me either, though I think it was more to do my pronunciation! My Irish flatmates poured scorn on this activity, as they had been forced to learn Irish at school…a bit like my encounters with les jeune francaises, (pardon my French), who thought it a terrible thing to be forced to study philosophy in high school. Whereas I would have been quite happy to study both Irish and philosophy at school…

Talking to M last night at the Fest about La Sequence Silverstein, a film about a man undertaking a genome screening….’That’s what’ll happen to you,’ I said, ‘A [his partner] will make you undergo genome testing to make sure you don’t carry too many genes for Asperger’s syndrome.’ M [groaning]: ‘Yeah, she will too, before she’ll let me breed with her.’

Tjilpi: Thanks for the reassuring news about the maintenance on the Todd.

Nick: I’ll send out a change of details email and all will be revealed. (Seems like there’s something in the wind for Virgos re: career at the moment!)  And yeah the speeches -- I also spent a lot of blood, sweat and tears, speech-writing for others, often at the eleventh hour, only to have them decide in a fit of pique on occasion that they weren't going to give that speech after all, as they were too busy/didn't like so-and-so in that organisation/were 'allergic to Canberra', and so forth.

Angus: Some YADS (i.e. Young Democrats) I once knew told me that NSD actually had brown curly hair.  Weren't her wedding photos in the papers vile!  (And why did she always go out with such sepulchral looking men?!)

Troppo: I wrote a post which puts the case against Helen Garner’s Consolation – and also picks up on the issue of diminished responsibility.

And there’s more: sorry folks, can’t resist another potshot at NSW Health…I knew I smelt more than just a rat on Ward 9 (wouldn’t have been surprised if a literal Orwellian rat had been there!)

Lord of the Books

The SMH has published the results of the top 100 books read by Australians. I guess it’s kind of sweet that everyone likes the Lord of the Rings so much. And I daresay Jane Austen has a lot to thank Andrew Davies and Helen Fielding for the popularity of Pride and Prejudice (oh, and the HSC school syllabus).

But there were some surprises for me in the list, like ‘16. Captain Underpants And The Invasion Of The Incredibly Naughty Cafeteria Ladies From Outer Space by Dav Pilkey’, ‘4. To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee’ and ‘91. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand’ (perhaps Malcolm Fraser put in a few votes). My favourite adult book, Anna Karenin, was # 70; my favourite book when I was 5, The Magic Faraway Tree, was #94.

Brideshead, sigh, was #95.

I wondered what conclusions to draw from the list, like: perhaps Tim Winton and J.K. Rowling are doing the publishing industry and Australian literacy levels a big favour in keeping people who might not otherwise read interested in reading some books.

I also wondered if the popularity of To Kill a Mockingbird is grounded in the fact that it’s presented to teenagers during their formative years at high school: they get opened up to some of the basic small ‘l’ liberal arguments for maybe the first time, they see the film, and those who go on to become small ‘r’ readers remember it as a great read.

I was also reminded of that essay in Jonathan Franzen’s book How not to be alone, when he reviews the findings of some survey which says there are very few American who consistently read and buy books, just a small, sensitive usually female sliver of the educated liberal population, and it’s not likely to get any bigger.

But then, that’s the kind of melancholy thing Jonathan Franzen says (probably suffering from Asperger’s syndrome as well).

I wonder if the electronic book is likely to take off? I tend to think not (too unwieldy compared to the easily portable and readable product of traditional publishing technology), and that the ascendancy of the visual will continue as the dominant story-telling medium.

And so, away from books and to films: I saw two this weekend, The Corporation and Bad Santa. The Corporation really sucked; it was the kind of thing you get sucked into seeing in Alice, too, because it’s promoted as an arthouse film that will only be seen once. I was bored shitless. This film was about two and a half hours long; they could have easily cut out an hour (preferably the first one). It had all the old favourites, Mike Moore, Naomi Klein, et al, saying what they usually say about mass corporations, human rights and environmental destruction. The faithful um’d, ah’d and laughed in all the right places. I kept on looking at my watch. Surely the use-by date for sloganeering, left-liberal American documentaries will soon be up, (unless they can approach their subjects a bit more creatively, as Supersize Me did). Their investigative journalism standards worry me. The only thing that truly amused me was Indian academic Vandina Shiva describing herself as a ‘seed activist’. In all, I think I learned one interesting new thing, that a corporation is a ‘person’ under American law.

Bad Santa, though, is my idea of a feel-good Xmas movie -- Billy Bob Thornton as an alcoholic, sociopathic Santa involved in criminal activities with an African-American dwarf (who knows how to play the disability and the race cards), who turns to good under the influence of a girl who's obsessed with 'fucking Santa' and a 'retard' with an advent calendar (who's likewise obsessed with him, tho for other reasons).

As the film was set largely in an American dept store, there was probably plenty of product placement, but hey! Only my subconscious noticed that; it didn't bother me at all.

More ado about nothing...

Last night I organised Friday night drinks at Sean's, in hope of revivifying the institution of Friday-night-drinks-at-the-pub on an at least fortnightly basis (a la the old Carlton Inn days).  I don't think much of myself as a social facilitator (I don't have the knack of making people come and gather) so I was quite pleased when about half a dozen people turned up, one of whom I'd never seen before.

Alice is a bit strapped for watering holes -- pleasant watering holes.  There's plenty of XXXX Tavern type places.  There's a bar whose name I forget in the Mall that tries to be modern (lots of stainless steel, primary colours and vinyl) but fails miserably.  There's The Lane -- a supposedly upmarket joint with nice wines and tapas -- but you have to be in the right mood for that.  And there's Sean's, the Irish pub opposite the Kmart carpark, where you can vege out under cover in a beer garden.  It's atmospheric without being, well, menacing.  A bit like a Sydney push type pub, before the days of mass yuppification.

While we were having drinks I noticed a Native American delegate from the desert conference having a drink with an old colleague of mine in the corner.  We said 'hi' again.  You don't often see Native Americans in Australia, and I was quite taken with her dramatic self-presentation -- long thick black hair,  a distinctively weathered face, long aqua blue dress and a lot of aqua jewellery.  It's sobering to think that if America hadn't been colonised in the way it has been, the face of America wouldn't be so hegemonically white (which it isn't really), but rather more Asiatic, if anything.

After drinks, I went to an art exhibition opening at a small gallery in one of the industrial parts of town with A, a rather out-there dv lawyer.  The exhibition was of a series of Centralian style paintings -- storms, deserts, dogs, camels -- and more abstracted numbers using desert type colours.  It's a while since I've seen any art that's not Aboriginal.  I've forgotten the name of the artist already, but she's planning an exhibition of camel paintings in Sydney.  It was a pretty Centralian style event, with lots of kids and dogs wandering in and out of the gallery.

Then I went and saw the late screening of Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason.  I felt like a bit of fluff, so I wasn't disappointed at that level.  I seem to remember, tho, that when I read the book, it was a  bit more developed than what's presented in the film (the book's based on Persuasion, if I remember rightly).  There were some annoying moments in this film, like the lesbianism bit, the fight between Darcy and Cleaver, and the Coke sign admonitions.  In fact, I thought Margaret and David's summations of the film were pretty accurate this time.  I agree with Margaret that what's good about this film is the way in which it gets a lot of female insecurities about relationships right. And with David that Darcy is not a particularly attractive character (but that's true to form too!)  Although I think Renee Zellweger has done a surprisingly good job with Bridget (she's kooky enough -- and she does seem to talk in that strange halting way in real life), I'm not sure that I find her a very attractive character either.  She's endearing up to a point with all her bumbling and so forth, but I think she should show herself to have some substance and well, something going for her.  Laura, a barrister friend of mine from London, said her response on reading BJ's diary was: 'Is that all we're meant to be?' The dynamic which seemed to be developing in Bridget and Darcy's relationship was a parent-child one (not surprising, given the personalities involved).  I couldn't stand being yelled at as tho I was a child, personally, which happens a couple of times in the film (fussy, aint I?)   But yes, the fluff quotient was met.

So, I wonder if there'll be any more of BJ? I guess they could go on to do Bridget and Darcy have kids.  And what is 'turkey curry buffet'?

Tomorrow I'm thinking of taking up the Cycling Club's kind invite to meet them at the Hungry Jack's carpark at 7 am for a 'social ride'.  (This isn't as mad as it sounds on account of the increasing heat).  I've been waiting for a weekend where I feel tip-top and the sleep quotient has been met.  I still feel much status anxiety about my bike, and imagine myself to be left straggling way behind with the kids and the old codgers or perhaps by myself like the crippled boy in the Pied Piper.  I've come to terms with my medal by saying that even if I had had a better bike and had done a better time, I still would have come second, so it doesn't really matter.

I mentioned to my physio that I'd been thinking of going on the social ride and he said he had too, though thre are terrible headwinds from all directions at the moment.  I thought, oh great, that's all I need, my whippersnapper physio (he still has pimples) to see me in lycra, struggling to keep up with everyone else.  Whippersnapper physio came out from England to ride around Australia on his bike (as you do) and ended up living in a flat at the Old People's Home, working as their physio, before he was nabbed by one of the physios in town who sponsored him to stay.  The first time I saw the whippersnapper physio, I wore a really decrepit old bra.  Not on purpose; it was one of those things were you think: 'I can get away with this, no one's going to see me undressed today'.  A thought which comes back to haunt you later in the day when of course, you have to take off top to show young whippersnapper physio the state of your back.  It was extremely embarrassing as it was an old mauve lace bra (nice in its time) that was now close to pornographic.  I guess he sees all types, but now go wearing something close to a breast-plate.  Anyway, physio is most pleased with me as I have almost gotten shoulderblades to lie flat on my back 'like dinner plates', which is apparently the right thing to draw your shoulders down away from your ears as you sit at a keyboard.  The odd thing is that I do feel a bit stronger from strange pesky physio exercises, and now feel I can sit much longer at the keyboard without getting weary.  Which isn't the aim of the project, as all physios hate computers and don't want to hear that you have plans to spend long periods in front of them.  Whippersnapper physio thinks that one day we will evolve to adapt to computer usage (sounds rather Lamarckian to me).

So that's tomorrow -- possible cycling in heat and head winds at ridiculous early hour.  Today, I hoped to do Something Useful and Significant with my life, but I seem to have ended up blogging again.  In fact, I imagine one of my cousin's sprogs saying to his sprog in sixty years' time: 'And this is what Strange Cousin Elsewhere left behind: some cat photos and this' ... holding up a ramstick containing the blog.  (Actually, my archival, family-historian-type cousin would be delighted if someone had left something behind as comprehensive as a blog.)

The other possibility is to go and have a spa at Matt and Alicia's place, i.e. their new house with its spa.  Alice is heavily into pools and spas (I'd be tempted to get one, if I had the space.)  Alicia is away at the moment and Matt seems rather forlorn in the way of men-with-partners-away -- as well as having a weekend of marking to do.  So I've been invited to come round with champers, some time, any time (they don't seem to know their phone number).  Well, I guess I could do that too -- go round and have a spa with someone else's husband while their partner's away... (Don't worry, I don't usually do this kind of thing.)