Creativity and commerce: Michael Klinger and new film history

The crisis in film studies and history concerning their legitimacy and objectives has provoked a reinvigoration of scholarly energy in historical enquiry. 'New film history' attempts to address the concerns of historians and film scholars by working self-reflexively with an expanded range of sources and a wider conception of 'film' as a dynamic set of processes rather than a series of texts. The practice of new film history is here exemplified through a detailed case study of the independent British producer Michael Klinger (active 1961-87) with a specific focus on his unsuccessful attempt to produce a war film, Green Beach, based on a memoir of the Dieppe raid (August 1942). This case study demonstrates the importance of analysing the producer's role in understanding the complexities of film-making, the continual struggle to balance the competing demands of creativity and commerce. In addition, its subject matter - an undercover raid and a Jewish hero - disturbed the dominant myths concerning the Second World War, creating what turned out to be intractable ideological as well as financial problems. The paper concludes that the concerns of film historians need to engage with broader cultural and social histories. © 2010 Taylor & Francis

Barry, Mick and Kenny: Bloke-heroes in Australian Cinema

The New Australian Cinema in the early 1970s commenced with what was to become the defining portrayal of the Aussie bloke - 'The Adventures of Barry McKenzie'. McKenzie, instead of being embarrassing, was valorised as the folk image of the bloke. This article examines how in the four decades since, the bloke has been a constant in Australian cinema and the bloke-image has been confirmed and celebrated through such films as 'Crocodile Dundee' and 'Kenny'

Film

It is a testimonial to the powerful appeal of cinema that less than twelve months after the first public screenings of 'moving pictures', in Paris in December 1895, such pictures were being both shot and exhibited in Australia. In this country, story films developed particularly quickly, and bushranger stories proved especially attractive. Thus, 'The Story of the Kelly Gang' (1906) was followed by the first film version of 'Robbery Under Arms' (1907), and in short order by films on other bushrangers, both real and fictional, including New England's own Captain Thunderbolt, otherwise known as Fred Ward. Bush or outback settings therefore appear in many of the early films made in Australia, and not only for bushranger stories. However, the bush settings used for shooting were in suitably 'authentic' settings close to Sydney or Melbourne, even when dealing with historical figures or events known to have had specific locations. The 1907 version of the Thunderbolt story, 'Thunderbolt', was shot around Lithgow and the Blue Mountains, and certainly not in the vicinity of Ward's bushranging activities. For the first twenty or 30 years of film-making in New South Wales, bush-located narratives were shot in such easily accessible places, and only rarely further afield. Any number of variables influence where (and how) a film is produced (or at least where it is shot). Of some importance to films in general, but especially to the films I call New England films, are concerns about authenticity and verisimilitude

Dances and Divisions: The Local Country Hall in Australian Films Since 1970

The country town - which sits rather uncomfortably and uneasily in the Australian cultural mythos; between the over-valorised bush on one hand and the denigrated city on the other - has had something of a magnetic attraction for post-1970 filmmakers in Australia. Prior to this, the Australian cinema found the country town of little interest as a site for filmic narratives, save for the occasional silent film in the 1920s and the odd 'off-shore' production such as 'Smiley' and its sequel, 'Smiley Gets a Gun', both produced in the 1950s. What has become known as the new Australian cinema as good as began with a country town film: 'Wake in Fright' (1971). Australian film has continued to be sporadically fascinated with country towns. To the extent that there are some seventy such films at least and that body of films ought to reveal something interesting about representations of and attitudes towards country towns in cultural, social and folkloric perceptions, I will only have space to discuss a handful in what follows but most of my comments are made from a familiarity with nearly all these films

Does Dan Die?: The Ned Kelly Films and the Question of the Fate of Dan Kelly and Steve Hart at Glenrowan

In his article, 'Ghosts of Glenrowan', in this issue, Rodney Noonan draws attention to the 1951 film, The Glenrowan Affair and its suggestion that Dan Kelly had escaped from the shoot-out at Glenrowan. But what of other Kelly films? I propose to examine these, and the one major television incursion into the area, in terms of what their narratives (and their expression of those narratives) may indicate about the issue of whether Dan Kelly (in particular) and Steve Hart survived Glenrowan

The Cinema of Alan Marshall

Even making allowance for journalistic hyperbole, it is possible that Alan Marshall may well have agreed with reporter Don Petersen who asserted in a 1975 interview in 'The Sun' that 'Alan is now head over hells [in love] with the film makers. And they, in increasing numbers, with him.' For a while, it looked as if Marshall, 'the patriarch of Australian story tellers' in Petersen's words, was about to become a dominant influence in the fledgling Australian film industry - or at least his writings a dominant source of material for films

Strictly Ballroom: A Film for Our Time

In this critical analysis, Neil Rattigan discusses 'Strictly Ballroom' in terms of its place in the history of Australian cinema, its credentials as a musical and as a fairy tale, its prescient view of the condition and future of multiculturalism in Australia, and its thematic exploration of the notion of 'a life lived in fear'

What It Means to Be Human: the Problematic of Humanity in 'Star Trek'

The title of this study is taken in part from a statement by Gene Roddenberry, the creative genius behind 'Star Trek'. He said, "It is only when you look at what unites humans, rather than what divides them, that you have some idea of what it means to be human." Humanity was his greatest fascination, its diversity, its nature and its spirit. 'Star Trek' in its original manifestation and its later sequels and continuations has offered countless millions of viewers all over the global village a fictional cosmos in which the fundamental question of what it means to be human (and non-human) has been rehearsed, reiterated and reinforced for thirty and more years. ..... Tolerance of the political and the religious values and convictions of the outsider is purported to be vital, and an explanation of the notion of tolerance is included in chapter five. Included are certain examples of tolerance of the religions and the politics of others in western society - their 'liberal ideologies'. The Creation myth expounded in the series strives to prove a link between humanoid species. The 'Next Generation's' "The Chase" discusses the ways in which the 'seeding of the galaxy' took place. Also in chapter five, I investigate genetics and cloning, and interracial, interspecies, and intracultual love, as well as the issue of the "outsider" being denigrated and/or punished. In chapter six I deal with the concepts of love, friendship and family, and the many varying forms it takes within the two series

The man in the white suit: Alexander Mackendrick (1951)

Original article can be found at: http://www.bergpublishers.com/BergJournals/DesignandCulture/tabid/3594/Default.aspx Copyright Design Studies ForumThe Man in the White Suit (TMITWS) is rarely mentioned in relation to design practice, beyond its relevance to “smart fabrics,” but every design professional should see this cautionary tale of an individual battling an industry. [1] The film’s obsessive protagonist, Sidney Stratton (Alec Guinness) works as a cleaner at Corland textile mill while secretly pursuing chemical experiments. Upon discovery, he is sacked and moves to Birnley mill where his technical expertise gains him access to the research lab. Birnley’s daughter (Joan Crawford) persuades her father to give Stratton a contract and facilities. He no longer needs to improvise his experiments on borrowed bench space and is granted exclusive use of lab facilities, to avoid industrial espionage. The dangerous nature of his experiments (and his disregard for personal safety) ensures that the physical destruction of his workshop serves as a visual manifestation of the fate of his invention. His fabric, which never gets dirty or tears, can mimic a range of existing applications. Its durability threatens the entire textile industry and it is opposed by trade unions and mill owners alike. The title suggests both savior (as Stratton’s champion/love-interest Crawford sees it) and madman (The Man in the White Straightjacket?): ultimately, Stratton’s determination to realize his invention remains undefeated.Peer reviewe

Filmic sports history: Dawn Fraser, swimming and Australian national identity

Among a multitude of social memory representations of Australian swimming legend Dawn Fraser are several films, including a 1979 biopic, Dawn! This paper considers this feature film alongside other examples of filmic history, most particularly a 1964 documentary, The Dawn Fraser Story. While documentaries are generally valued more highly by historians than movies because of the perceived similarity of endeavour between documentary makers and written historians, in this case the biopic is more compelling because its narratives resonate more strongly with Fraser's role in swimming history, her connection with major national stereotypes and her position as a living sporting icon. In particular, Dawn! encapsulates a dominant, yet mythical, feature of Australian identity - the larrikin - through representations of Fraser as an anti-authoritarian, working-class 'battler'. Simultaneously, however, the movie disrupts this larrikin portrayal through its depiction of Fraser's sexuality, and in particular a lesbian relationship, a parallel but competing theme which is trumped by larrikinism not only in subsequent filmic histories of the swimmer but in wider cultural representations of Fraser