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' rH U D U C IN fj.p iC W LA ST N EW SREEL / CO M ARCH - APRIL, 1976



uo Q X O-


The crafty combination The Hasselblad 500C/M’s incredible versatility and ease of use have spoiled a lot of photographers for any other camera. T hat’s a shame because they might find a 500EL/M even more to their liking. How about 70 2 lA" square frames a minute? With one hand tied behind your back. Remote operation by cord or radio. Convenient when you have to “ shoot” dangerous subjects (take a platypus for example) or some hazardous industrial process. Unattended sequence coverage is also possible with an intervalometer. And you’ll no doubt find the motor-driven Hasselblad a time-saving asset in the studio. And using a Hasselblad 24 or 70 exposure magazine will increase your range and minimize moodbusting breaks to change film. DEPEND ON IT


If you already have a Hasselblad 500C/M, you only need to get yourself a 500EL/M body. Camera bodies for both models use the same accessories. T hat’s an advantage of a Hasselblad.

Hasselblad For free colour brochures, write, enclosing a thirty cent stamp, to Photim port (Aust) Pty Ltd 69 Nicholson Street East Brunswick Vic 3057. If you describe your special interests or applications, such as under­ water or close-up photography, we will send you specialist literature.

T he best break in television news! When news breaks you have to act fast; set up fast—get the picture back fast. Of the two alternatives the better way for on-the-spot, heat-of-the-moment, unrepeatable events is the film way. Kodak color motion picture films for the television industry give you two great advantages. Technical excellence for color

transmissions, plus the versatility and portability of the film camera. Film is great for the television news business.

KODAK (Australasia) PTY. LTD. Motion Picture & Education Markets Division


Kodak Motion Picture Color Printing Methods - 16mm Projection Contrast Color Reversal Original 7 2 4 1 ,7 2 4 2 , or 7256

Color Negative Original 7254 or 7247

Color Internegative 7271


7381 or 7383


if9 7390 ■a*®®«

7381 or 7383

7381 or 7383

Color Reversal Master 7389

7252 or 7389



7381 7383



Color Release Prints

H7241 KODAK EKTACHROME EF Film (Daylight) 7242 KODAK EKTACHROME EF Film (Tungsten)


7247 EASTMAN Color Negative II Film 7249 EASTMAN Color Reversal Intermediate Film

1. Where multiple release prints are required, the use of a low-contrast original is recommended.

7252 7254 7256 7271

EASTMAN EKTACHROME Commercial Film EASTMAN Color Negative Film KODAK EKTACHROME MS Film EASTMAN Color Internegative Film

2. The choice of printing procedure depends on a number of factors, including the types of printing and processing facilities available and certain economic considerations. As a result, certain compromises may have to be accepted.

7381 7383 7389 7390


3. The dotted lines indicate alternate, less common methods.

Color Print Film Color SP Print Film EKTACHROME R Print Film EKTACHROME Print Film


AUSTRALIA COUNCIL THE FILM , RADIO & TELEVISIO N BOARD GRANTS FOR FILM AND TELEVISION APPLICATIONS CLOSE: MARCH 22 a film or television treatment or screenplay over a specific period of time at an approved rate of payment. APPLICATION FORMS (for 1 & 2) are available from: The Director, Films, Radio and Television Board, Australia Council, P.O. Box 302, North Sydney, NSW, 2060. For information: Telephone a Project Officer who can assist you from pre-production to post-production — Sydney 922 2122

1. Advanced Production Fund. Through which assistance is given for projects from ex­ perienced film-makers, which are of a high standard but not necessarily commercial propositions. Upper limit — $25,000

3. Bask Production Fund. Which is administered by the Board in collaboration with the Australian Film Institute. Support will be con­ sidered for projects which are original in approach, technique or subject matter; for technical research pro­ jects and for proposals by inexperienced, but promising, filmmakers. Upper limit — $7,000

2.Script Development Fund. Through which grants are made to directors and/or writers who wish to devote their full time to developing

APPLICATION FORMS (for 3) are available from: The Director, Australian Film Institute, P.O. Box 165, Carlton South, Vic. 3053. For information: Telephone (Melbourne) 3476888, or the Film Consultant, Film, Radio and Television Board (Sydney) 9222122.

GRIFFITH UNIVERSITY BRISBANE THE SCHOOL OF HUMANITIES Griffith University enrolled its first graduate student in 1974 and its first undergraduates in March 1975. The University is organised in problem-oriented Schools, and is committed to multi-disciplinary study and team teaching. The interests of the fifteen faculty members so far appointed to the School of Humanities include Italian, French, English, Russian and Arabic Literature, European cultural and in te lle ctu a l history, the study of film and television, anthropology and sociology, philosophy and semiotics. The School is seeking additional faculty staff to join it in the second half of 1976, and applications are sought from persons whose interests include: A SOCIOLOGICAL, PHILOSOPHICAL OR SEMIOTIC APPROACH TO THE STUDY OF LITERATURE, STYLISTICS, THE VISUAL ARTS, OR DESIGN AND ARCHITECTURE. It is expected that appointments will be made at Senior Lecturer or Lecturer Level. The salary range is: Lecturer $12,063 — 8 x $500 - $16,193 Senior Lecturer $16,512 — 6 x $536 — $19,193. Further information is available from The School Administrator, The School of Humanities, Griffith University, Nathan, Queensland, 4111. Applications should reach the School Administrator by 26th March, 1976.

New Address (next door actually)

100 CHAN DOS ST., CROW S N EST 2065 PH O NE: (02)4394233



j^ustrafianf'ifm —

8 WEST ST., NORTH SYDNEY 2060 PHONE 922 6855

^ tr r r m w w r S


Throughout the 1976 Winter Olympics at Innsbruck, Gevachrome II will be used exclusively by Austrian Television and all accredited T.V. film teams. These new Gevachrome II films offer what film and television news

teams need: reliable film material with extreme sharpness; outstanding brilliance; accurate colour rendering plus fast, trouble-free processing. All over the world millions of viewers will see why Gevachrome II is a winner.

Gevachrome II by Agfa-Gevaert. . . the European partners of film and television professionals. AGFA-GEVAERT Limited. Melbourne 878 8000. Sydney 888 1444. Brisbane 91 6833. Adelaide 42 5703. Perth 61 5399.



Rathe introduce tw o craftsman cam erasD S8 and 16mm.

I Both are professional. Possibly the latest electronic Duolight cameras from the Pathe cockerell look like ugly ducklings, but look at their capabilities: The electronic double super 8 version takes one hundred feet of film which after processing becomes two hundred feet in the super 8 format. The 16mm version of the camera is similar in design to the DS8. Either camera will take an auxiliary 400 foot magazine with its own motor and automatic camera connections that will provide long running capability. The new exposure meter has no moving needle, but solid state electronics with LED display. The CdS cell is behind the lens and gives accurate measurement whether the camera is running or not. It drives the lens DEPEND ON IT

diaphragm automatically through a servo motor, so you can concentrate on filming. The meter is also coupled with f.p.s. control, the variable shutter opening and film sensitivity (10-400 ASA). The speed range is remarkable: 8, 18, 25, 48, 64 and 80 fps, forward or reverse, with variable shutter opening for lap dissolves. Two sync sound systems: A built-in pilot tone, 50Hz at 25 fps for use with pilot tone tape recorders and single frame pulse sync for use with the new pulse systems. No extras to buy. Lenses are interchangeable, using a threelens turret that takes standard C mount lenses. You can also use some still camera lenses with adapters. Choose a lens to create the effect you want. You might like to start

with Angenieux's new f 1.2 zoom lens, with focal lengths from 6 to 80mm. That's a 13.3 to 1 zoom ratio. Viewing is reflex through a ground glass screen with hairlines. It also provides an exposure indicator, battery charge level indicator and TV framing limits. Compare its compact dimensions and weight (7lbs) with what you're carrying around. Now which is the ugly duckling? When writing for literature, please enclose 30 cent stamp. Photimport (Aust) Pty Ltd. Melbourne: 69 Nicholson St, East Brunswick. 38 6922. Sydney: 17 Alberta St. 26 2926. Brisbane: 244 St Paul's Terrace, Fortitude Valley. 52 8188. Adelaide: L H Marcus Pty Ltd, 242 Pirie St. 23 2946. Perth: L Gunzburg Pty Ltd, 339 Charles St, North Perth. 28 3377.

/■Y. A;




interested in watching, reading about, ....fg ln ir exhibiting th e Australian Film Institute càrffiëïp:

.Æ lÊ H B ïil :j p b r ^ preserves ahddistrtbu tes •.v.•:•. • Sptftsincluding new Australian ^'w1b andshort films, recent French and classic films and many other '¡¡¡§| imed features and shorts. ph the history of Australian Cinema is due to in early 1977.

If you would like to see a film, .or have aJi released, the ¡ ¡ j| operates Piaybox in Melbourne and tb #étati in Hr™. m

to know more about the history of

the history of cinema up

^eglayjshed m



: The AFI organises the a n n u a lA u s tr^ i^ rtli||P Awards competition. If you would like to make a fÉ ^ th e A ^ ^ ^ p the Basic Production Fund {formerly film & TV fund) for the Australian m

\Further information j



on thesi§afid o th p f^ fÿ ? activities (including our neW n^m b *

from: The Director Australian Film Institute P.O. Box 165 Carlton South. Vic. 3053 Telephone: [03] 347 6888




ThreenewsoundsinmotionfromSwitzerland Capture those fleeting moments in pictures and sound. The original sound belonging to your filmed images gives them a new dimension. The sound is recorded during actual filming directly onto the magnetic stripe on the film. (You can even stripe your own with a Weberling.) Bolex sound quality is excellent. And simultaneous recording of both pictures and sound is no more difficult than with an ordinary movie camera. Both new Bolex models are equipped with automatic setting devices for the diaphragm and sound level during recording, allowing you to concentrate on the actual filming. The Bolex 580 Sound is particularly suited for outdoor reporting, being fitted with a zoom lens that gives up to eight times magnifica­ tion. The Bolex 550XL Sound has a very large aperture lens (f/1.2) and is especially suited to filming indoors w ithout the need for additional lighting. Loaded with 160 ASA film, it becomes almost as sensitive as your own eyes. It enables you to film any scene, by the am bient light, just as you see it. Naturally, your viewfinder has full inform ation, including film end signal. You can do professional dissolves automatically, starting or ending a sequence with a slow fade-in or fade-out. Another autom atic device amplifies weak sound signals and compresses loud ones at your demand. If you want to appear in the picture yourself, a rem ote control device enables you to do so. You won’t have any blank frames, because an electromagnetic control always stops the shutter in the closed position. There’s even an ‘Actionlight’ mounted on the front of the camera to warn your ‘cast’ when you start shooting. The film quality you’ll get from either of these cameras deserves a projector to match. Have a look at the new Bolex SM80 Electronic, a new generation in projectors. Simple to operate, but with highly refined recording technique. Sound level control makes it possible to record richly contrasting music without distortion at over 50 Db. DEPEND ON IT


If you're not into Super 8 sound yet, this is your chance to get moving in hi-fi.

No advertisement can tell you all about this new Bolex equipment. Write, enclosing 30 cent stamp, for colour literature to: Photim port (Aust) Pty Ltd, 69 Nicholson St, East Brunswick 3057

A rticles and Interviews

Pat Lovell Producing Picnic: 298

Pat Lovell: Interview Antony I. Ginnane andScott Murray The Last Newsreel Ray Edmondson Richard Zanuck and David Brown: Interview Rod Bishop and Antony I.Ginnane Akio Jissoji Andrew Pike Sydney Pollack: Interview David Brandes Renovations in Earthquake Hotel Howard Willis Sergei Gerasimov: Interview Susan Dermody Pier Paolo Pasolini 1922-1975 Noel Purdon Willie Twist: Rediscovered Ian Griggs

298 302 306 310 320 325 329

The Last Newsreel A Short History: 302

334 355


Zanuck and Brown Interview: 306

The Quarter Guide for the Australian Film Producer Antony I. Ginnane andLeon Gorr 1975 Chicago Film Festival Jan Dawson Filmography: Beaumont Smith Ross Cooper Picture Previews: Salo or 120 Days inSodom The Trespassers The Hindenburg Production Report: Don’s Party Gordon Glenn and ScottMurray Production Survey Letters Columns Soundtracks: Bernard Herrmann Ivan Hutchinson Top Ten

296 315 318 332 336 365

Cuckoo’s Nest Reviewed: 359

374 339 349 371 372

375 37$

Film Reviews

Three Days of the Condor Sydney Pollack: 320

One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest Jan Dawson Mandingo Tom Ryan Black Moon Jan Dawson Love and Death John C. Murray Barry Lyndon Jack Clancy The Man Who Would Be King Jim Murphy The Passenger Tom Ryan The Wind and the Lion Marcus Cole

359 359 361 362 363 366 367 369

Production Report: Don’s Party: 339

Editorial Board: Peter Beilby, Phlllippe Mora, Scott Murray. Managing Editor: Scott Murray. Contributing Editors: An­ tony I. Ginnane, Rod Bishop, Graham Shirley, David Elfick. Design and Layout: Keith Robertson. Office Manager: Mary Reichenvater. Editorial Assistance: Andrew Pecze. Assistance: Pat O’Neill, Maurice Perera, Jan Dawson, Kitty Kompe, Peter Jensen. Correspondents: London, Jan Dawson. New York, Dave Hay. Montreal, Dave Jones. Photography: Virginia Coventry, Gordon Glenn. Advertising: Melbourne — Barbara Guest, Sue Murray. Tel. 3295983. Sydney — Zoo Adler, Tel. 261625. Printing: Waverley Offset Group. Distribution: Consolidated Press Pty. Ltd. Cinema Papers is produced with financial assistance from the Film, Radio and Television Board of the Australia Council. Signed articles represent the views of their authors and not necessarily those of the Editors. Whilst every care is taken on manuscripts and materials supplied for this magazine, neither the Editors nor the Publishers accept any liability for loss or damage which may arise. This magazine may not, by way of trade, be reproduced in whole or in part, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. Cinema Papers is published every three months by Cinema Papers, 143 Therry Street, Melbourne 300 (Tel. 3295983); 365A Pitt Street, Sydney (Tel. 261625). Copyright Cinema Papers, March/Aprll, 1976. Front Cover: Drew Forsythe as Sonny and Helen Morse as the barmaid in Don Crombie's soon to be released Caddie. (Photograph by Geoff Neild, courtesy of Anthony Buckley Productions).

Recommended price only.


denigrate his company’s standing by distributing an "X” film, and the film remains effectively banned.

In recent months there have been two notable attacks on the right to free speech. Prompted by an Influx of soft and hard-core pornography, the governments of Italy and France have come down extremely severely — though with radically different means. (1) In Italy, in a manner reminiscent of Mussolini, the High Court of Cassa­ tion has ordered the destruction, “ by flame” , of the 50 odd prints of Last Tango in Paris now circulating the country. And Bertolucci, Grimaldi, Brando and Schneider have all been given suspended two month prison sentences. Then two days later in Milan, Pasolini’s Sale; or 120 Days of Sodom was banned from Italian screens and all prints confiscated. This fate was also pronounced on Silvio Clementelli's World By Night Today and Paul Verhoven’s Kitty Tippel. The destruction order on Tango also disqualifies the film from state aid — which is 13 per cent of box-office gross. As Last Tango has grossed more than US$9 million this means a loss of over US$1.2 million in subsidy, and with all the remaining piaydates cancelled, Grimaldi will also lose an estimated 25 per cent of his potential box-office. Bertolucci has since appealed to the President of the Italian Republic, Giovanni Leone, to pardon his and Pasolini’s films. No one, however, is confident of the outcome, although the outcry could help force radical changes to the censorship laws — a choice now facing Italy’s 43rd government since World War II. (2) In France, the attack on sex films has taken a more subtle, yet effective course — the introduction of a porn tax on cinemas. The censorship board can now classify a film as "X” — which restricts it from all those under 21. Cinemas showing such films are then faced with double tax, a 20 per cent offthe-top bounty to the government, and a loss of all film aid. The Secretary of Culture, Michel Guy, claims that the law is purely for the sake of the flagging French film in­ dustry. He has also stated that the criteria for imposing an “X” is whether the film was made solely to utilize sex or violence for their own sake — without employing any underlying social or artistic values. So far, over 200 cinemas across France have been effected by this tax, presumably, as Mr Guy suggests, to bring back free choice to the film-going public. Some observers have been less kind and have suggested that the real motivation behind the tax is the es­ timated $6.5 million that will roll into the government coffers. The biggest cause celebre has so far been Glacobetti’s Emmanuelie 2: Th® Anti-Virgin, from the novel by Em­ manuelle Arsan. The censorship board passed the film without restriction, but Mr Guy, feeling it was made solely for its sex scenes, overruled the board and slapped an “X” on It. This is only the se­ cond time in 18 years the censorship board has been over-ruled — the first being Rivette’s film of Diderot’s The Nun — and many are suggesting that President Giscard D’Estaing was the man behind the move. In an attempt to change this ruling the title was changed to Emmanuelle 2, since “Anti-Virgin” had given much offence. But the “X” stayed. And at this stage, there is a deadlock: producer | Yves Rosset-Rouard refuses to


296 — Cinema Papers, March-April

It doesn’t pay to trust anyone in the film business, at least not If you think you have a ‘red-hot’ property. Hexagon producer-director Tim Burstall, has been working on the idea of a film bas­ ed on the story of Mrs Eliza Fraser, a woman shipwrecked off Moreton Bay and captured by the Aboriginals for more than five years. And given the in­ ternational success of films like A Man Called Horse and Papilion, one would have thought that the only thing holding Burstall back would be the larger budget. In fact, after his preliminary sortie to Cannes last year selling Petersen, and attempting to involve Warner Brothers in Mrs. Fraser, Burstall must have felt reasonably confident. Although the Warners deal fell through, subsequent negotiations with a revamped Avco Embassy Pictures led to them acquir­ ing Petersen for U.S. release and agreeing to help finance Mrs. Fraser. However, all this promoting meant that the script (by David Williamson) and package landed on a lot of people’s desks. And possibly it made contact with independent producer Sandy Howard, whose tax shelter backers' were rather pleased with the prospects of his sequel to A Man Call­ ed Horse — which United Artists promptly acquired. Howard immediately made overtures to a Sydney production facility com­ pany and, thereafter, announced the commencement of filming in Australia, on June 16. The budget of Shipwreck­ ed is US$3.5 million, and it is based on the same story from a Bili Norton Snr. and Michael Luke script. Howard’s an­ nouncement also stated that the production would be in association with a major studio. In such contests (note recently A Doll’s House and King Kong), it is generally the first film in release that wins — in fact, sometimes the second film magically fails to materialize. Ac­ cordingly, Burstall and co., are pushing ahead with their Mrs. Fraser and plan to commence shooting in mid March. If both films go ahead, this may be a real test for Australian cinema on the international market — although Burstall’s film will, of course, be han­ dicapped by its smaller US$1 million budget. (It is still, however, the most ex­ pensive Australian film ever).

LOTS OF MONEY ROLLS !N, TOO FEW FILMS ROLL OUT Most of the major U.S. producer­ distributors have announced 1975 as their best season for many years; a fu rth e r sign of the c o n tin u in g resurgence of the film industry as as in­ ternational money spinner. United Artists Corp. (which is only a distributor) announced that 1975 provided them with US$85.9 million in film rentals from the U.S. and Canada alone — an increase of 29 per cent on the 1974 figure of US$79.5 million, and eight per cent up on their all-time 1965 record of US$79.45 million. United Ar­ tists’ domestic improvement is, of course, aided (to the tune of 26 per cent

of total rentals) by their handling in the U.S. and Canada of the MGM library — CIC handle most other places. Universal also announced an all-time high with rentals of US$289 million in the foreign market and US$201 million in the domestic market (U.S. and Canada). Universal claims this amount of foreign rental is an all-time industry record, beating the 1974 Warner B ro th e rs w o rld -w id e g ro s s of US$268,174 million. Earthquake and Jaws helped, of course. 1975 was also Twentieth Century Fox’s best ever year, but the feature film and television divisions were the only ones in the conglomerate to report higher earnings. Fox’s total world-wide gross (which includes all activities of the company, not just film production) was US$342 million. Fox’s share of Towering Inferno helped augment film grosses. Warner’s foreign rentals were their biggest ever, with a total foreign rental of US$111,420 million, of which $40 million came from their co-production with Fox — The Towering Inferno. Disney has also established new records. Paradoxically, the actual supply of feature films in 1976 is likely to be decreased dramatically, because as Frank Rosenfelt (MGM President) points out, costs are on the up and up and the risks for marginal films will be greater than ever before. The film you could make for US$2.2 million, now costs US$3.1 million. As might be ex­ pected, Rosenfelt considers it a paradox that, unlike most other in­ dustries who can pass on price in­ creases to consumers, exhibitors are reluctant to do so, despite it is they who are complaining most loudly about the likely product shortage. Sam Arkoff, head of American Inter­ national, has also gone on record to scream at what he terms “suicidal budget increases” . This is ironic as AIP is presently engaged in its most costly production (Minelli’s A Matter Of Time: budget US$5 million) and acquisition (Michael Klinger’s US$9.5 million Shout At The Devil) in history. And the fact that tax shelter provisions look like going under in April, in spite of an in­ dustry rearguard action led by AIP and Columbia, will not help the indepen­ dent producer to keep active.

GORILLA WAR ABORTS One battle which has made many headlines in Hollywood recently is that between Universal Studios and Paramount Pictures-Dino de Lauren­ tiis, over who gets to remake King Kong. In January, both studios had competing versions in pre-production, and both were making casting and other noises simultaneously — with a flurry of law suits. The real irony would have been in the foreign market, where all product from Paramount and Universal is distributed by Cinema International, and where the two films would have been in direct competition. (Australia would have been one of the few foreign markets where that might not have happened, as it seems Roadshow have a sort of franchise for some ot ue Laurentiis’ product over the next two years.) In any event, an agreement was reached. The De Laurentiis film will get a “clear and unencumbered way to the world theatrical market” . And it is con­ templated that Universal will not com­ mence production on their Sen-

surround epic, The Legend of Kfng Kong, for 18 months. Complicated financial arrangements have been made between De Laurentiis and Universal to compensate Universal for holding their production back. Some trade insiders say this will mean the end of the Universal version. However, Sid Scheinberg, president of Universal, states that: "Universal still in­ tends to produce and release a King Kong film under optimum production and distribution conditions subsequent to the De Laurentiis film release” . The public response to the release in Christmas 1976 of the De Laurentiis film will be closely watched. Universal is also continuing its litiga­ tion against RKO General (corporate successor to RKO Radio Pictures) on the alleged breach of verbal agreement over licensing them the remake rights to Kong. It was this alleged breach, and RKO’s subsequent deal with De Laurentiis (making the film in “associa­ tion with RKO General”), which set the whole gorilla war in progress.

OZ FILMS DO CANNES-CANNES Maurice Bessy, director of the Cannes International Film Festival, to which more and more Australians are heading each year, has stated that Australia will have one film In the Of­ ficial Competition this year. Local film­ makers are predictably opinionated over which film should be chosen. Some Cannes watchers, however, have suggested that the selection of Competition films has always been somewhat ludicrous and there are enough stories of behind-the-scenes payola to create a mini Watergate — if anyone ever took it seriously enough. Blatant commercialism (Toute en Vie, Yuppi Du, etc) coupled with blatant propaganda (Chronicle of Burning Days) have always been the order of the day, and last year’s selection of Sunday Too Far Away for the Director’s Fortnight was more a coming of age for Australia’s cinema, than the world’s. In any event, the three contenders are: Mad Dog, Picnic at Hanging Rock and Caddie. Mora’s Mad Dog would almost be a certainty if it is ready in time — festivals like familiar faces and Mora’s name has hit screens on the Croisette twice already — but this seems less and less likely. As for Picnic and Caddie, the few observers who have seen both suggest Caddie as the more likely choice. But Caddie has, however, engaged in little pre-Cannes p u b lic ity , w he re a s the P ic n ic producers have a Paris publicist who has reputedly had Bessy’s ear on the job for some months. Bessy is due to make the announce­ ment shortly and if Picnic is selected, it may well teach other would-be Cannes hopefuls a lesson or two in international showmanship.

COPPOLA LATEST Latest in the continuing saga of Fran­ cis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now is that the film will definitely go ahead in the Philippines and the Far East, with pre-production commencing February 26. There are still no details on the cast, although a series of big names have been often mentioned by Coppola since the project’s inception, like Steve


McQueen and Marlon Brando. Coppola has confirmed, however, that Fred Roos and Garv Frederlckson will be the co-producers; Vittorio Storaro, the cameraman; Dean Tavoularis, the p ro d u c tio n d e sig n e r; and Dick McWhorter, the unit manager — all familiar names from The Godfather un­ it. In a surprise announcement which conflicts with attitudes expressed in his recent Cinema Paoers interview. Coppola has stated that Apocalypse Now will go out via a major, United Ar­ tists, in the U.S. and Canada. Coppola had earlier suggested that the film, which is being handled by various in­ dependents on the foreign market, would be handled in the U.S. by his own distribution outfit, Coppola Cinema 7 — a partnership with Don Rugoff’s Cinema 5. Recently, the New York-based Cinema 5 announced that it had ex­ perienced its most successful year for some time, no doubt due to such successes as Monty Python and the

NEW YORK FILM FESTIVAL closing night performance October 12,1975 ■8 : 3 0 pm

Holy Grail, Scenes from a Marriage, Swept Away by an Unusual Destiny and 7 Beauties. The last two are by the

current rage of New York, Lina Wertmuller. Coppola is credited with having brought Ms. Wertmuller’s films to the attention of Rugoff, since, as part of the Cinema 7 deal when Coppola bought 130,000 shares of Cinema 5 stock in August 1974 at a reduced rate, he must bring to Rugoff’s attention a list of films the distributor should acquire. Now that Cinema 5 is back on its feet, it also appears the takeover bid — by William Forman, president ofCineroma Inc. — which has been ongoing for some 18 months, has finally been fought off.

ALL TIME TOPPERS Variety’s updated, all-time "Box­ o ffic e C ha m p s” has ju s t been published, and below are listed the top 10 . Jaw s ...................... $US102,650,000 The Godfather...... $US 85,747,184 The Sound of M u sic .................$US 78,400,000 Gone With The W ind ...................$US 74,236,000 The Sting .............. $US 72,100,000 The Exorcist..........$US 71,715,000 Towering Inferno . .$US 55,000,000 Love S to ry ............$US 50,000,000 The Graduate .......$US 49,978,000 Doctor Zhivago __ $US 46,232,000

All figures represent total film hire and are for the U.S. and Canadian markets only. (For approximate world gross, double the relevant figures.) Of the above titles, only Gone With The Wind (1939) is more than 10 years old.

FELLINI THROWS A TANTRUM Everyone knows that Federico Fellini has been trying to do a film version of Casanova for about as long as Bergman has been attempting The Merry Widow — which is a decade at least. Fellini finally got his way last year when Italian producer and associate of United Artist’s PEA Rome operation, Alberto Grimaldi, riding high on the success of Last Tango and the Pasolini triology, pooled his cash with advances from Titanus (Italy) and Nippon Herald (Japan) to set Casanova in motion. Fellini cast Donald Sutherland in the title role and on the strength of this, Universal made a negative pick-up deal with Grimaldi for an unspecified sum for U.S. and Canadian rights. The film has been plagued with trou­ ble since filming began. First, the amazing negative highjack from Technicolor in Rome needed much reshooting. (See the last issue of Cinema Papers). Then illness, strikes and money crises hit the production. Fellini then did a prima donna on

counterculture’s past — the film ver­ sion of Hair. Production of this rock musical is set for late 1976. After the financial and critical dis­ aster of Zardoz, John Boorman is to direct the sequel of The Exorcist, The Heretic: Exorcist II. John Voigt is to star alongside Linda Blair whose littlegirl image is quickly disappearing — not surprisingly given a recent televi­ sion drama where she was raped with a broom handle. If the Devil is to be given a revival, so then is the Lives of a Bengal Lancer. Mark Robson’s film, however, is not a remake of the 1935 Gary Cooper vehicle, it will be largely based on the recent novel by Berkeley Mather. Peter Yates is to direct The Deep from the novel by Jaws author, Peter Benchley. First, however, Yates is to film Mother, Jugs and Speed from a screenplay by Tom Mankiewicz. It will star Bill Cosby, Raquel Welch and Harvey Keitel. After the extraordinary success of his Chinatown and Shampoo scripts, Robert Towne is writing Tarzan and the Apes. He promises the film will be ex­ tre m e ly fa ith fu l to Edgar Rice Burroughs. Two French directors are planning films in the U.S. — Alain Resnais with Providence, and Louis Malle with a film on the jazz scene in New Orleans. David Mercer, who scripted Losey’s version of The Doll’s House, is writing the screenplay for Resnais. Sergio Leone is also hopeful of shooting in the U.S. soon, with his long promised Once Upon a Time There Was America. Klaus Kinski, from Herzog’s Aguirre,


TH E STO R Y OF ADELE H. the loneliness of a passion starring

ISABELLE ADJANI Isabelle Adjani on the poster for Francois Truffaut’s Histoire D’Adele H. Pocket Money, Truffaut’s latest film on childhood, has just opened in Paris. It is described by its director as being “somewhere between Les Quatre Cents Coups and Les Baisers Voles.

Grimaldi who closed the production down on December 18 last year, after discovering that the film was 25 per cent over budget, with only 60 per cent in the can. F e llin i re to rte d by demanding retractions from Grimaldi, and blaming the latter's censorship problems with Tango and Salo as clouding his judgment. Or maybe Fellini and Grimaldi simply wanted a Christmas break from the spiralling monster. In any event, in a joint statement on January 28, Fellini and Grimaldi an­ nounced a reconciliation of sorts — a new production supervisor and a reasonable time schedule to get the production started agin. Filming is now due to be completed by early May. Universal's only comment over the production hiatus was that, as they had no financial involvement in the produc­ tion until completion, they were in no jeopardy.

AFTER THE HONEYMOON The Australian Film Commission began operation in May 1975; 10 months later its honeymoon with the in­ dustry seems over. But marriage always has its difficulties, and in this case there are rumours of nepotism cir­ culating already. Unfortunately, it seems that charges of “outside interest” are an inheritance of the mini-scandal which surrounded the demise of Tom Stacey and the AFDC. And within weeks of the AFC’s inauguration, there was a flurry of con­ troversy within and without the AFC surrounding full-time Commissioner Pat Condon and his interests in David Frost’s Paradine company. Pat Condon resigned subsequently.

More recently, attention has focussed on the personal interests of some part­ time Commissioners. Anthony Buckley Productions Pty. Ltd. recently received $250,000 for its film Caddie, plus an additional amount when the film went over budget. Anthony Buckley is a part­ time Commissioner. Attention has also been drawn to the outside interests of other part-time Commissioners, Jill Robb and Graham Burke. Robb is a distribution consultant for the SAFC and is currently in line to take over as its head. Burke is manag­ ing director of Village, Roadshow and deputy chairman of Hexagon. Many observers claim that it is im­ perative, for the development of the Australian Film industry, that the Com­ mission be regarded as a neutral and independent organization, whose sole interest is the development of a viable and successful film industry. It is unfor­ tunate, but perhaps inevitable, that with the increasing competition for the AFC’s limited funds, rumours and ac­ cusations should abound. However, given this situation, it is regarded by many as regrettable that appointments should be made which are vulnerable to criticism and on the grounds that the appointees have in­ terests in companies or organizations that are recipients are AFC monies.

FOREIGN PRODUCTION NEWS Elliot Kastner and Lester Persky are to co-produce Sidney Lumet’s film of Equus — Peter Shaffer’s stage hit. Budget is estimated at $4 million. Persky and Kastner are also financing Milos Forman’s second dip into the

and Gerard Depardieu are to star. Probably the most prolific of British directors, Dick Lester, is presently shooting The Ritz at Twickenham. The principal leads are Jack Weston, Rita Moreno, Jerry Stiller and Kaye Ballard. At the rival Shepperton, Blake Edwards is busy with his The Pink Panther Strikes Again. Harry Waxman is the Director of Photography and Peter Sellers the lead. Three more sequels are planned . . . After co-producing Nagisa Oshima’s erotic Corrida in Paris, Anatole Dauman is in Germany co-producing Volker Schloendorff’s Le Coup de Grace. The film is set in Lithuania in the 1920s, during the Communist con­ quest. Two fa m o us n o v e lis ts have forthcoming films based on their work: Colette and Robin Maugham. Christine Gouze Renal is to do six one-hour video shows of the former’s Claudine stories, while David Vaughan is to produce Maugham’s The Sign. Isabelle Adjani, the extraordinary actress from T ru ffa u t’s H istoire D’Adele H, is presently acting in Roman Polanski’s new film, The Tenant. The screenplay is by Polanski and long­ time associate, Gerald Brach. Bergman, who is in hospital after suf­ fering a nervous breakdown, has two films lined up — but not the Merry Widow. One is his joint venture with Federico Fellini, Love, and the other, the RAI-TV co-production with Sir Lew Grade, The Passion of Christ. John Cassavettes’ latest film, The Killing of a Chinese Bookie, is now in release in the U.S., as is the highly praised new Paul Mazursky film, Next Stop Greenwich V illage. M artin Scorcese’s Taxi Driver with Robert de Niro and Cybil Shepard, is also causing much comment. Penthouse publisher, Bob Guiccone, after dabbling financially in Chinatown, The Longest Yard and Day of the Locust, is to float his own production of Caligula. Malcolm McDowell is to star, and the screenplay is by novelist Gore Vidal. The director is still to be chosen, though Lina Wertmuller is a likely can­ didate. British Lion has involvement in four major U.S. productions at present: Peter Bogdanovich’s Nickelodeon; Nicholas Roeg’s Last Shot; The Man Who Came to Play; and Roeg’s recently completed Man Who Fell to Earth, with David Bowie and Rip Torn. Cinema Papers, March-April — 297

Producing "Picnic”

The success of Pat Lovell’s production of “Picnic at Hang­ ing R ock” , with co-producers Hal and Jim M cElroy, has been one of the more surprising aspects of the local industry’s resurgence. With still much of its prime runs to complete, “ Picnic” has already grossed $1.5 million and now rivals “Alvin Purple” as Australia’s most successful film. Pat Lovell has spent over 17 years in television, including long stints as companion to Mr Squiggle and panel-member of ‘Beauty and the Beast’. Her career as journalist and reporter, for both commercial and government television, has generally tended toward the more specialized areas of current affairs, and at one stage this even had her paddling down a river in Thailand to reach a story. At present, Ms Lovell is preparing the film version of Cliff Green’s original screenplay, ‘Break of D ay’ — a love story set in the Australia of the 1920s. Shooting is planned to commence in April, with Ken Hannam as director. Ms Lovell was recently in Melbourne, and there she spoke to Scott Murray and Antony I. Ginnane about her involvement with “ Picnic” .

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The genesis of the “Picnic at Hanging Rock” idea — was it a case of reading Joan Lindsay’s book and going after an option, or was it brought to you in some draft form? I read it in 1971, and thought it a highly original and unique story; one I could easily see in film terms, I then saw Peter Weir’s Homesdale and thought he had a capacity for seeing the unusual and the sinister beneath typical, everyday events. So I decided he had to do it.

book around to Peter, who was in the last stages of writing The Cars That Ate Paris, and though he didn’t have enough time, he asked me to leave it with him. I suspect he thought I was slightly crazy. Anyway, two months later he rang me and said: “ I’ve got to direct that film. What can you do about it?” So I rang Cheshires and got the holding option, How much did you have to pay for that option?

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Did you see “Homesdale” when it A hundred dollars. That was for first came out? three months. Yes.




So, you were thinking about “Picnic” even at that time . . .

A hundred dollars is a fairly small sum. Is that because they probably didn’t envisage it going any further, or was it standard practice to pay such a sum?

Yes, but I was wishing somebody else would make it. I hadn’t thought about producing films myself, because that seemed a com­ pletely insurmountable hurdle.

I literally said to Cheshires: “All I have in the world is a hundred dollars” — which was quite true — “will you accept it?” And they did. I am told this was because Joan At what stage did you go about Lindsay trusted Peter and myself, chasing up an option on the book? and believed we could, and would, make the fdm. In early 1973. I was inspired by I’ve been into this since with Philip Adams, who said: “Why the another book and the option on hell don’t you go ahead and that would have cost me $200. Of produce it yourself?” So, I took the course, the money is straight down the drain if you don’t go ahead. Below: a flurry of petals and pastel muslin. The girls gather for the Saint Valentine’s Day breakfast.

Had Joan Lindsay seen “Cars”? No, but we spent a lot of time

with her when we cam e to Melbourne. She had talked to a lot of people about it, but in our dis­ cussions-we apparently hit several of the things that were important to her. From then on, we were the people. So, there was some competitition for the rights? Yes, but I didn’t realize it at the time. Another company had been after it since 1972. Once you got the holding option and three months grace, was your next step to try and find some private investors? No, the script had to be written. Now, part of the option agreement was that I talk to David William­ son, whom Joan had met and adored. But David became over­ committed in 1973 and said that he couldn’t do it. However, he suggested Cliff Green, and a meeting was arranged between Cliff and Joan. She then agreed that he could write it. You see, I had to have her permission on that. Cliff then completed a first draft which was absolutely spot on. Was it at this point the McElroys came in? Yes, it was at the end of 1973. Peter had been working with them on Cars, and I have always believed

that you should get the best possible people for the job in hand. Frankly I knew nothing about production on this scale, and at that stage I was in fact looking for a co-producer, somebody who knew about invest­ ment portfolios and the hard and fast business matters of the day. Did you then form a joint venture company? No, not at this stage. They came in singly. I still had the Sugarfoot Company, which held the book rights. The McElroys then drew up a budget and it was sent to the Australian Film Development Cor­ poration. It was not knocked back, but deferred — they considered it too expensive. This left me in a very awkward position, because Cliff had to be paid for his first draft. He had done it on an advance of only $1,500 — which was quite ridiculous. So I wrote to the AFDC and said: “ You have raved about this screenplay, yet you are dangling me on a string, and I have this highly professional writer who is not getting paid. What do you expect me to do?” I asked for $4,000: $2,000 to pay off Cliff and another $2,000 for the second draft. They gave me the $2,000 to pay Cliff, but held back on the rest till I brought the budget down. At that stage it was $442,000.


What did the AFDC consider a reasonable budget? Around $380,000. And was that the final costing of the film? No, that was $445,000, which was pretty close to the original budget. Into the bargain we hadn’t budgeted for the South Australian experience. One of the conditions of their involvement was that we had to shoot some scenes in South Australia, and not do it entirely in Victoria. This, of course, meant we had to pay travel and accommoda­ tion expenses for the cast and crew. The overages have not been com­ plained about by any of the capital investors, because they can see all the money on the screen. It’s not wasted. Did they give any reason why they considered it too expensive?

boys came in as directors with one were also on a small salary from vote each, while I held two. I Picnic Productions. thought that if people were going to work with each other for very little Given the AFDC’s standard con­ money, as we all did, then they all dition that one must have involve­ ment from a distributor, you then should share the copyright. went back to BEF. Was this This brings us to your rather un­ because of their initial interest? usual credit: Produced in Associa­ I believe that the story is that tion with Patricia Lovell . .. David Williams* thought BEF were When the Macs came back, already involved — probably due to rather than have three producers, which I thought was top heavy, I Managing director of the G reater Union Organisation. decided to take the slightly lesser credit of executive producer. I still had two votes in the company and another non-creative vote was held by my solicitor so I couldn’t be voted out of the company — I am not stupid you know. Actually, “ Produced in Associa­ tion with Patricia Lovell” is, in legal terms, an equal credit to a “ McElroy and McElroy Produc­ tion” .

all the talking I had done with John Fraser during the year. David had been very keen on the project from the start and had in fact been trying to interest BEF in it since 1972. His enthusiasm was a great help in them coming in with the Final third of the money. Was your contract with BEF purely for Australian theatrical release, or does it include television sales? No, just Australian and New Zealand theatrical.

You then went to the South Even though all the assessments, Australian Film Corporation, and save for one, were very favorable, I presumably this was after their in­ don’t think anybody had any idea volvement in “Sunday, Too Far about what would make a commer­ Away” . What in fact did the Cor­ cial venture. They were all terribly poration contribute? unsure. At that stage, they had also in­ Well, they gave us production vested a lot of money in the facilities and their studio. We also McElroys and Peter, and as none of got a lot of the crew from SA, as that had shown, I think it went well as many of the actresses — against us. I don’t blame them, mainly young girls. They also put because when something is going to John Graves in as executive cost as much as Picnic, you should producer for the SAFC with a have to go back and back and back. watching vote — meaning they had Anyway, as they had no con­ a creative control in the Film. fidence in the film at that stage, the McElroys and I finally parted. People like Graves presumably, would have been on salaries from the What was your next step? SAFC and not from yourselves . . . I went to British Empire Films to get money for a second draft, but they weren’t ready to invest. They did have investments in various other things, like The Man from Hong Kong, but the conditions were not good. So, I raised the $3,000 privately.

As part of the agreement they

“ Love abounds/Love surrounds . . .” . Saint Valentine’s Day at Appleyard College.

Why did you choose BEF? Because John Fraser had told the AFDC that BEF was very anxious to invest in films. Peter and I then met with the ex­ ecutives from the AFDC and asked whether they would back the film if we got private investment. They assured us they were right behind us. Peter then heard in conversation that the McElroys had access to some money and he asked me if I would consider asking them back. As I was absolutely broke at the time I approached them for the sake of the film. There was also a time problem, in that the Film had to be shot in summer, and had we not made it early in 1975, it would have meant holding off for a year — which frankly I couldn’t afford to do. So Picnic Productions was form­ ed in January 1975, and re-named from the Sugarfoot Company. The 300 — Cinema Papers, March-April

“ The mountain comes to Mohammed. The Hanging Rock comes to Mr Hussey.”


You mentioned that the SAFC through John Graves had some sort of creative interest in “Picnic”. What concessions, if any, had to be made to the SAFC, BEF or the AFDC? None at all. All three parties were more than co-operative. The SAFC was excellent and John ob­ viously saw all the rushes, which he was always pleased with. It is good to have investors who don’t interfere.

“There would have been nothing worse than an Australian boy playing Michael — no matter how good he was” . Dominic Guard as the British aristocrat, Michael.

As executive producer, what sort of creative control did you have over cast and crew and the day-to-day problems of shooting? I was told you were on location quite a lot . . . Oh yes, I was there all the time. Nothing ever had to be put to the vote — it was always just a matter of Jim, Hal, Peter and myself sitting around and talking things out. I was very pleased with that situation. To be a little more specific, what control did you have in casting? Initially, I had a lot to do with the casting, because H ilary Linstead, who finally cast it, was in London. When she came back she literally took over from where I left off. Obviously, we all went to the casting sessions, and we all had a say. Was the second choice of Rachel Roberts, and the first choice of Dominic Guard, totally based on rightness for the role, or was there some underlying consideration of what might help on the overseas markets — particularly British and European?

Initially, as you know, Vivian M erch an t was cast as M rs Appleyard and Vivian is not a good box-office name either here or in the United States, though she probably is in B ritain. And Dominic’s main role was when he was a boy. But when Peter and I first talked about the film, I said it was going to be difficult to cast Appleyard here: she had to be British and know about British ways. As for Michael, there would have been nothing worse than an Australian boy playing him, no matter how good he was. Peter and Jim McElroy then went to London where they met Vi­ vian and a lot of other actresses. She did consider herself a little bit young for the part, but she was will­ ing to go ahead anyway. Jim had also worked with Dominic on The Hands of Cormack Joyce, and had been very impressed with him. Peter met him and thought him spot on for Michael — which I think he is. So, we were really thinking in terms of the right people, rather than box-office. But, of course, Vi­ vian got ill and couldn’t come. It was really rather frightening.

not been so deadly serious — business of trying to ring Rachel’s agency in New York from Mintaro, in South Australia, on a little wind­ up phone with sheep walking past the window. It was organized ex­ tremely smoothly and that is entire­ ly due to the McElroys. Now she was, I think, a terrible shock to everybody, because I don’t quite know whether the McElroys or Peter realized how powerful an actress she was. The investors were thrilled, of course, because in the U.S. she is very good box-office. But I’ll never forget the look on people’s faces after those first day’s rushes — I mean, she was giving the performance I had expected her to. My recommendation was that I had never seen her do a bad perfor­ mance, just as I had never seen Vivian. I also thought Rachel’s strength was that she was so different from Vivian: after all you couldn’t just replace one with another. It was a fairly worrying and difficult time, especially for Peter who had been working under the severe strain of a five-week shoot. Incredible. How do you see the potentiality of the film overseas and, more specifically, what plans, if any, have you got for its marketing? Well, we have just had a meeting with the Film Commission and all the investors, and have some definite plans which we can’t dis­ cuss yet. By the way, all the in­ vestors have a say in the overseas sales. Producers have the right to negotiate, but not to clinch the deal, which is only fair — it’s an awful lot of money. However, it is going to involve a lot of frenzied phone calls to the overseas market place, isn’t it? After all, you may sometime find something so attractive that you have to clinch it on the spot . . .

problems. On future productions, would you like to be involved with other people in a production company, with a similar voting system, or would you be more inclined to work alone — as when you started this film? I think I would like to go it alone, though we are trying another sort of tack with my next one, in that Cliff Green will probably come in as associate producer. I think a producer/writer relationship can be a good one, depending on where the money comes from. It will probably be the same as with Picnic, where you look around until you find the perfect com­ bination. I think one has to do that, because if you go to the first money offered, it might be tied up in all sorts of ways that are completely untenable, and that would be just asking for trouble. When you choose a director, you choose him because of certain qualities he can bring to the film. I take it you will be trying to get the film off the ground long before any money is lodged in your pocket? Yes, it is like digging for gold all over again. I hope it will be easier this time. Break of Day is one ahead of Picnic, as far as scripts are con­ cerned, and everything Cliff has learned from writing that first screenplay has been put into this. It’s an entirely different type of film, which I am very pleased about. You may be only as good as your last film, but I think people may be taking me a little more seriously and realizing that I can be a pretty determined lady. I won’t ever go ahead with something just to get a film made, I won’t com­ promise. Has being a “lady” been a problem in anyway?

I think it means a quick cable to I am not quite sure, because I the Film Commission, who then have the facilities to contact the didn’t ever consider it one. I know other investors. I don’t think it I’ve been underpaid quite often and necessarily means individual calls. I things like that, but I don’t think have tremendous confidence in our anybody has ever shown prejudice investors, including the Film Com­ during Picnic — in fact quite the mission — in this instance — contrary. I remember Nadine Hollow said because they have, to date, been more than co-operative. Obviously to me: “Of course, because you’re a if they weren’t happy with the woman you are going to find it dif­ It was very close to the actual finished product, they wouldn’t put ficult to get this project to the shooting, wasn’t it? in their all, but they have been Board.” But I find that hard to terribly enthusiastic, which helps a believe and I put down the fact that Well, it was. We had scheduled hell of a lot. I had so many knock-backs to not the shooting of Mrs Appleyard’s really being complete and ready. If scenes around the final two weeks Have the investors had joint con­ people weren’t confident enough, it to allow Vivian to do all her stuff in trol over things in Australia, like the was with the project, not me. that last 10 days. Her availability, number of prints BEF have ordered, Yes, it is giving them the benefit therefore, was nothing short of a the size of the launching budget and of the doubt. After that January disaster. Jim immediately con­ the terms BEF have made with 1974 deferment it was put to me by tacted his agents in Britain and Greater Union? Hal and Jim that because I was a literally asked for suggestions. woman, and because I hadn’t Then Rachel Roberts, who had Well so far, I think, probably produced anything before, it would been over-committed when they quite a lot. The AFDC’s legal prejudice the application. But I were in London, was found to be department had to okay the dis­ then went to the AFDC and asked: available and in New York. So, tribution contract and I have a very “ Is this true?” there ensued an incredible — and it good lawyer who has also looked at would have been very funny had it it. I don’t think there have been any Continued on P. 377. Cinema Papers, March-April — 301

Ray Edmondson It did, perhaps, receive better press coverage at its demise than at any time during its brief five year career. As the Cinesound Movietone Australian Movie Magazine went out to the theatres for the last time on November 27, it was realized that the perennial weekly newsreel had, with a sudden finality, disappeared from the Australian screen after something like 70 years, and that a whole facet of Australian film­ making had passed into history. In a post-television age the longevity of local newsreel production has been extraordinary. All but one of the major international reels have long since disappeared and there are few countries which still produce cinema newsreels for domestic release. Yet, up to five years ago, when Cinesound and Movietone merged to produce the Movie Magazine, the local market still carried two weekly newsreels. Inexorably,the economics of it all finally rang down the cur­ tain. No one can now verify the date or title of the first Australian newsreel, though the newsreel format as we have come to know it — a magazine film containing several short actuality items on current events — was established by about 1910. But this grew out of earlier, less for­ malized actuality films which concentrated on single events — sometimes of national, but mostly of very localized interest. The first of these actually managed to be both: the now famous record of the 1896 Melbourne Cup by Lumiere cameraman Maurice Sestier. His technique was, as might be expected, a little rudimentary, but he had a newsreel man’s feel for action, enlivening — with a little help from some hat-waving friends in the foreground — footage of the actual race with some of the ex­ citement that was presumably felt at the oc­ casion. He started a tradition, for the race has been filmed by cinema newsmen every year since, with Cinesound and Movietone competing to get their coverage on to the city screens mere hours after the event. Later, Movietone News and the Movie Magazine would go to color for the occasion. After the turn of the century other cameramen — Franklyn Barrett, Harry Krischock and the Salvation Army’s Limelight Department among them — followed in Sestier’s wake, recording current events for presentation both in halls and in the first of the then emerging picture theatres. In 1911-12, four of th e p io n e erin g producers/exhibitors in the rapidly developing film industry — Cozens Spencer, W. A. Gibson, T. J. West and J. D. Williams — merged their separate interests to form what became Union Theatres Ltd. and its production subsidiary, Australian Films. The weekly Australian (later Australasian) Gazette then adopted Spencer’s kangaroo tradem ark and made its first appearance, superseding Spencer’s Gazette and presumably other, now unknown, actuality series produced separately by the four partners. Backed by a large distribution base, the Australian Gazette grew and, coupled with a similar growth by some of its competitors (of which there were many), the one-off, one-man newsreels and actuality “specials” gave way to the nationally distributed multi-item reels. These featured the contributions of many cameramen Opposite: Every week the Australian Movietone News open­ ed with the obligatory kookaburras (bottom), followed by the main title (top).

Main title of the Australian Gazette, circa 1920.

around the country, and editions of the reel would vary considerably from state to state to ensure a suitable proportion of local-interest material. The comparative ease with which silent newsreels could be rearranged (there was no sound track to worry about) contributed greatly to this flexibility. . Reliable records of the Gazette’s history are meagre and only a few of its issues survive in complete form now, but they exemplify characteristics of the silent newsreel which the coming of sound was to alter. Lacking the sup­ port of a commentary, information and impact had to be conveyed largely by visuals, supplemented — as was frequently necessary — by titles which provided facts, figures, names and other non-visual information. To a modern viewer the treatment seems curiously slow and detached, although, in their original setting, the reels would have had the atmospheric support of the cinema musicians and employed a range of color tints common in the silent days. The stories were short and a typical reel might have had six or seven of them. For instance: • “ H.M.A.S. Australia” in Cockatoo Docks; • Sydney: State Theatre building in progress; • Melbourne: Spencer St. Bridge works; • Manly: Governor Philip Memorial; • Randwick: Cross-country race; • Sydney: Preparing for the future — the un­ derground railway under construction, Cir­ cular Quay, the North Shore Bridge; • Jean of William St. — a woman petrol sta­ tion operator comprised the contents of Gazette No. 936 in 1929. Nothing earth-shattering — it may have been a dull week — but the range of items in­ cludes human interest, news, sport and action, and a bit of free publicity for Union Theatres. Among the Gazette’s rivals were the Australa-

sian edition of Pathe’s Animated Gazette, smaller local reels like the Express Gazette, and the international reels distributed by overseas majors such as Paramount and Fox which often included spliced-in stories of local origin. The Gazette stayed its course as the principal Australian reel until the market for silent films disappeared with the advent of talkies in 1930. Veteran cameraman Jim Pearson recalled how the last issue contained all the choice “magazine” items that had been kept on ice as fillers for the weeks when newsworthy material was thin. In 20 years, Australasian Gazette had produced nearly 1000 weekly issues. The world-wide conversion to sound meant the adjustment of newsreels to this new method of presentation and to the possibilities it offered. The Fox Film Corporation in the U.S. was quick off the • mark with its sound-on-film Movietone system and by 1929 it was dis­ tributing an international Fox Movietone News. In October of that year its Australian unit (Cameraman Ray Vaughan and sound engineer Paul Hance) was established to produce regular local items for inclusion in Australian prints of the international reel. The first item was an in­ terview with Prime Minister James Scullin, who spoke to the Australian people at the onset of the Great Depression. The second item was the Melbourne Cup of 1929. By the end of 1930, the popularity of these items (and some occasional one-reel “specials” produced by the unit) was such that, from January 1931, Fox Movietone News — Australian Edition appeared, under the editorship of Harry Lawrenson, as a complete weekly reel in its own right. The Movietone kookaburras were now an established trademark and, like the Cinesound kangaroo, were to become something of an institution over the next 40 years. Cinema Papers, March-April — 303

The kangaroo trademark of the Cinesound Review was inherited from the Australasian Gazette and its precursor, Spencer’s Gazette.

Movietone’s success engendered competition from two quarters. In 1931, the Melbourne Herald newspaper joined with Herschell’s Films and formed Australian Sound Films Pty Ltd to produce a sound newsreel which would be spon­ sored by major newspapers in five states. Using British Visatone sound recording equipment, the first issue of The Herald Newsreel (the title varied according to the state and the newspaper concerned) was released on September 21, 1931. The reel was vigorously promoted and the con­ tents, if a little mundane at first, improved rapidly. In Sydney, a few weeks after the Herald’s advent, the first Cinesound Review appeared, produced by Ken G. Hall, with assistance from Bert Cross. Hall was, at the time, in the middle of location shooting for Cinesound’s first feature, On Our Selection, and at the insistence of Union Theatres’ managing director, Stuart F. Doyle, Hall travelled from Penrith to Sydney each night to supervise the newsreel. If his nerves were a little frayed by overwork it didn’t show in either project: the Review, like Selection, was an undoubted success and quickly gathered steam. And Union Theatres again had a weekly reel to fill the void left by the defunct Australasian Gazette, and a new product to help stimulate the company’s lagging fortunes in the Depression. The first issue of the Review opened with an oncamera introduction by commentator Charles Lawrence, and it featured, naturally, a coverage of the 1931 Melbourne Cup. The three reels competed energetically for their share of news scoops: in March 1932, Cinesound alone managed to photograph Cap­ tain de Groot’s attempt to open the Sydney Har­ bour Bridge ahead of Premier Jack Lang (stills from their negative were sent to newspapers 304 — Cinema Papers, March-April

Cinesound consolidated its position by ab­ sorbing the Herald reel in late 1932 — the Review was for many years thereafter released in Victoria as the Herald Cinesound News Review — and Ken Hall set about developing the reel’s distinctive style. From the beginning there was an awareness that it couldn’t depend solely on reporting of current events: there had to be a “ magazine” component which would maintain audience appeal over the several weeks it was on circuit, and it helped if the news items themselves had some continuing value. Also it had to entertain — which was, after all, the reason paying audiences went to the films in The Herald Newsreel sound-truck in 1931. Roy Driver is at the first place. Serious news had to be presented the camera, commentator Norman Campbell is with the graphically, tightly, whereas the more light­ microphone and sound engineer Jeff Thompson stands to the hearted items could be enlivened with the use of left. a comedian (in one reel, for instance, Stan around the world); and the following July the Tolhurst had trouble coping with a wet baby Herald caught the sinking of the “Casino,” and during a baby show). the rescue of its survivors. Distance put the Perhaps the Review’s greatest asset was its Herald at a disadvantage in an all-night dash to commentator, Charles Lawrence, who was with Canberra to film the swearing-in of the Lyons the reel from its inception until-a gradual retire­ ministry on January 6, 1932; but their coverage ment in the fifties. Lawrence’s style has to be of Lyons introducing His Cabinet members was listened to rather than described. Familiar, first on the screen (in Melbourne the next night) colloquial, completely without pretension, and and a print of the reel was presented to the with a store of the corniest gags never far below Prime Minister for permanent preservation to the surface, it ensured that the Review never fell mark the occasion.1 into the trap of taking itself too seriously — the If there was a golden age in Australian “voice of God” approach sometimes used by newsreel production, it was now beginning, and overseas reels didn’t work at Cinesound. Some though it would end in the fifties with the advent sample lines convey the flavor: the title “ Baby of television, for the next 20 years the rival Cine­ Born with 4-foot Neck” introduced a segment sound and Movietone reels would completely on giraffes; while an item on pigmy elephants ac­ dominate the field. Films were the mass quired by Melbourne Zoo talks about “giant medium, and newsreels a vital .means of com­ pachyderms” and “jungle mammoths” and ends munication. So if Cinesound Review styled itself (you can imagine the visuals) with: “ We’re sorry as “The Voice of Australia” , it wasn’t an to see the end of Betty and Peggy, but excuse altogether idle boast. them, they’ve just had a trunk call. . .” And in a

Scenes such as this were typical of Damien Parer’s footage of the war in New Guinea. Parer’s “ Kokoda Front Line” , for Cinesound Review No. 568, won the only Academy Award ever given to a newsreel.

During the war, several of Australia’s Finest cameramen sent back graphic footage from the front lines. Here, Roy Driver poses with his rifle-butt-mounted camera.

NSW Premier, Jack Lang, cuts the ribbon to open the Sydney Harbour Bridge in March, 1932 — perhaps Cinesound’s most famous scoop.

story about Northern Territory ant-hills in a 1938 Review, Lawrence reassured his audience that: “ What we’re passing is definitely not the graveyard of all the bad gags we pulled last year” . ’• The reel’s enthusiasm for comedy was to vanish in later years with Lawrence’s — and later Hall’s — departure from Cinesound. The subsequent narrators, with their more straight­ forward approaches, could never equal Lawrence’s touch. The earliest Movietone reels were without commentary because the recording of location sound (or location commentary) on the picture negative was simply transferred, without change, to the release prints. Additional information was, therefore, conveyed by titles in the manner of silent newsreels. Quickly following their rival’s lead, Movietone tried several commen-

tators, eventually settling on Jack Davey who had been, when he joined the reel in 1935, a relatively unknown personality on Sydney’s radio station 2GB. Davey and Movietone grew together over the next 25 years and his unexcell­ ed ability as a comedian and compere lent itself well to newsreel work. A penchant for comedy was again in evidence, though perhaps more poised and less spontaneous than Lawrence’s, but he was equally at home reporting serious news with drama and impact. Davey was also noted for his periodic, on-camera appearances: as Santa Claus in a Christmas reel and as a scout (or girl guide!) in a story on “ Bob-a-job” week. During the thirties both reels set up a network of representatives and cameramen in every state who contributed footage on a freelance basis, so that im portant events could be covered anywhere in the nation. Frequently, of course,

both reels covered the same events — such as important sporting fixtures, overseas notables visiting Australia, natural disasters and so on — indulging, as with the Melbourne Cup each year, in some well-publicised rivalry over who got their story on screen first. However, given the different character of each reel, the final results were often far from similar. Cinesound, for in­ stance, felt no reticence in voicing an opinion on controversial issues, criticizing government and public bodies on subjects ranging from Aboriginal welfare to drought and soil erosion. On one occasion, it characterized aspects of a post-war incident involving the deportation of Koreans as “un-Australian” . During World War II, the reels reached the peak of their efficiency and influence. Gradually the light-hearted and the inconsequential home news items gave way to reel after reel of graphic footage from the Australian cameramen in the front lines: Frank Hurley, Damien Parer, Roy Driver, Bill Carty, and others. This was supplemented, for example, by stories on the war effort at home and explanations of why there was a need for emergency measures — such as rationing. To a modern viewer, the tautness and compelling urgency of these reels conveys the tensions of those crucial years as nothing else can. And Cinesound Review No. 568 (“ Kokoda Front Line” —• photographed by Parer, written and produced by Hall) received the only Academy Award2 ever presented to a newsreel. There could have been no finer ac­ colade for the production standards which Australians had now reached in the field. Continued on P378.

Cinema Papers, March-April — 305

Richard Zanuck and David Brown are presently riding a gigantic wave of success and their film “Jaws” , predicts M CA head Lew Wasserman, will be the first feature to top $1 billion in film hire. Collectively, they have given M CA its best year since incor­ poration and restored Wall Street’s failing confidence in entertainment stocks. In Australia, “Jaws” almost singlehandedly brought the crowds back into the cinemas; cinemas which had been ominously empty since the ‘crash’ of last September. In the past Zanuck and Brown were famous mostly by association — Zanuck the son of mythical producer Daryl F.

Zanuck, and Brown the husband of Cosmopolitan editor Helen Gurley Brown — but with “The Sting” and “Jaws” they have become the most successful film producers in history. Zanuck and Brown were recently in Melbourne for the launching of “Jaws” , its first opening outside the U .S. and Canada. There, Cinema Papers' contributing editors Antony I. Ginnane and Rod Bishop interviewed them in their suite at the Southern Cross Hotel. Zanuck, flashily dressed with Cartier gold bracelets and Gucci shoes, did most of the talking, while Brown, in conservative tweed sportscoat, played the intellec­ tual. They complemented each other well.

Mr Zanuck, how did it feel to be growing up in a household where your father was Darryl F. Zanuck, where film was coming out of your ears from the time you were young?

Zanuck: No; I worked at the studio during my summer vaca­ tions. Every year I would go to a different department: editorial, story, etc. In fact, I even went to New York and spent a vacation in the advertising and publicity department to culminate a total and all-encompassing, apprentice­ ship in the business. T

Zanuck: It was a natural hap­ pening. I was a movie buff and, as a young boy, used to spend great periods of time at the studio. It was practically a backyard playground for me. Then, when I went to high Zanuck: It was very natural for school, I sold Saturday Evening me. My father was a private per­ Post to people at the studio for son, and not a thrower of lavish almost six years — I had a little parties. I led a very normal newspaper stand there. boyhood really. Your first film work was as a When did you decide to make the production assistant on “Island in Film industry your career? the Sun” . . . 306 —.Cinema Papers, March-April

Were you treated any differently because you were Darryl Zanuck’s son?

Zanuck: No, I don’t think so. The first feature that you actually produced, was “Compulsion.” . . . Zanuck: That’s right. That came about because your father was out of the country . . . Zanuck: Yes; he was in Africa making a film. He had expected to make Compulsion much later and didn’t think we could get clearance



Left: Compulsion, the first film produced by Richard Zanuck. As defence lawyer Jonathan Wilk, Orson Welles pleads that the death penalty is too severe a punishment for his clients: “ Any cry for more goes back to the hyena” . Top: During Zanuck and Brown’s reign at Fox, The Sound of Music was one of their greatest successes. Brown later bought it off Fox when he and Zanuck were eliminated. Above: Zanuck and Brown sold Portnoy’s Complaint to Ted Ashley at Warner Brothers, only to end up there themselves four months later. Richard Benjamin as Portnoy — with his sister’s bra.

Zanuck: It’s so long ago. The Zanuck name had very little effect on what happened at Warner Brothers at the time. Actually it was Jack Warner who put his scissors to the film. The film wasn’t all that financial­ ly successful was it? for the rights. I can’t remember the exact details and circumstances now, but the rights became available and I had developed the script while he was gone. How old were you at this stage? Zanuck: I was about 22 or 23. And you served as producer in the established sense on that film? Zanuck: Yes. It didn’t seem to be a big deal for me because I’d been around. I was young, but I’d been in the movies for my entire life, in one form or another, and I’d seen every conceivable thing. It was a totally controlled, all-studio bas­

ed film. It wasn’t difficult to make.

Zanuck: I think it made a few This film was in fact made for dollars profit. your father’s independent produc­ In 1962 your father went back to tion company, wasn’t it? I think you produced two other pictures for that 20th Century Fox as president of the company, “Sanctuary” and “The studio, and you went in as produc­ Chapman Report”? tion executive. Was this about the time “Cleopatra” was being made? Zanuck: Yes. Zanuck: Cleopatra had been As far as “The Chapman Report” finished. The Daryl F. Zanuck is concerned, the director was company (DFZ) did The Longest George Cukor, and there have been Day, w h ich w as f in is h e d various reports suggesting that he simultaneously. Really, he went was very unhappy with the version of back to protect the release of The “The Chapman Report” that ended Longest Day. up on screen. I think he lays some of “The Longest Day” was, in the the blame for that on the producer’s short term, a lot more financially doorstep . . .

successful than “Cleopatra”, wasn’t it? Zanuck: In the short and long term. What were you doing before you took over as president of Fox in 1966? Zanuck: I was head of pro­ duction, in charge of every film and television show. Would you come into contact with projects from their instigation right through to their conclusion and release? Zanuck: Yes. I then took over as vice-president in 1965, and as president in ’68. During that period of 1962 to 1965, Fox didn’t appear to be having a particularly good run. Films like “Cleopatra”, “Hello Dolly”, “Dr Doolittle”, etc. . . . Cinema Papers, March-April — 307


Zanuck: Actually we were hav­ ing the best time in the history of the company: The Sound of Music, for instance. The first flurry of pic­ tures we made were very successful. At some stage during 1967/68 there was a lot of in-fighting at 20th Century Fox as to the ownership and control of the company. That was attributed, in some quarters, to d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n by various shareholder groups, especially as to the way the company was being run, wasn’t it? Zanuck: That took place after I had left. Why then did you move from Fox to Warners? Zanuck: We were eliminated. Not by the stockholders, but by the board of directors. What was the reason for that? Zanuck: Basically the balance sheet was not good — although we had at that point the greatest line­ up of pictures of any studio: M.A.S.H, The French Connection, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Planet of the Apes, Patton. We left before those pictures were released. That enabled Stanfil, whom I had hired and who took my place, to achieve the quickest bank pay-down in the history of movies. He paid down something like $150 million in a year and a half. But there is no question about it, what caused the balance sheet to look bad was years of unrealistic bookkeeping — not to mention a lot of big flops. We found on the books tremen­ dous over-estimates of sales to television, and other things like that. Totally unrealistic. To give an example: Dr. Doolittle was on there for an $8 million sale to television. When Stanfil came in he looked at all of these things very carefully. He was our man, but it was his duty to report all of this to the board. It was none of our doing, though I hadn’t realized those figures were so high. We had to-write all that down and it caused a great deal of indebtedness. You then moved over to Warners. It would have been about this time that Warners began to move from the downbeat facade that it had been putting out in the mid-sixties into the aggressive organization that it is now. I think you were associated with “Portnoy’s Complaint”? Zanuck: We sold Portnoy’s Complaint when we were at Fox to Ted Ashley who was president of Warner Bros. Then, I guess three or four months later, we wound up at Warner Bros. I notice you are using the term “we”, so I take it that you had become associated with one another by that stage. Perhaps we could backtrack a little bit and turn to 308 — Cinema Papers, March-April

Robert Redford and the would-be assassin in George Roy Hill’s The Sting — Zanuck and Brown’s first real success as independents.

you, Mr Brown. You started as a journalist? Brown: Yes, I spent a great many years as one. And you became associated with the film industry in the early fifties, didn’t you? Brown: I was engaged by Darryl F. Z anuck in la te 1951 to come to Hollywood to the story department. At that time the big studio system was still in full flower. We had 26 producers and they were all under contract — they were not owners or partners. We had almost as many directors; and a roster of stars. The procedure at the studio was to buy a story, assign it to a producer and then produce it. The producers were in fact associate producers and Darryl F. winner and favorite film of Zanuck and Brown, Steven Speilberg’s Zanuck was in fact an executive Cannes Festival Sugarland Express. Goldie Hawn as the runaway Lou Jean Poplin. producer — a line producer in some respects. I had the opportunity to 1 had purchased with a lot of other rising to a member on the board of see Hollywood just before televi­ pictures). directors and finally, executive vice­ sion changed the whole stakes. I I then went back into the book president. must confess that I instigated business: I published the James Cleopatra as a much smaller film. I Bond books in hard cover. Did you two meet privately or won’t go into the details that led to Then, a year and a half later, I through business? the calamity of Cleopatra, but I Was received a telephone call from Brown: Through business. Dick a victim of it. When Darryl F. Richard Zanuck in Paris asking me Zanuck and Richard Zanuck took to return to my former position at was on a lot of DFZ productions over the company in .1962, I was 20th Century-Fox. The money was and I was a producer working one of the thousands who were rolling again, and I rose to the No. off an executive contract. I had fired. There was no more money, 2 spot in the corporation under refused to serve as No. 2 man under and they had to wait for cash flow. Richard as president. So we were a man named Buddy Adler, whom They had in turn to muster the indeed a team since 1962, because I D arryl Zanuck appointed to resources of the company, which in­ was his closest colleague: first as succeed him when he went into in­ cluded The Sound of Music (which head of the story department, then dependent production. I remained a


most likely company for a longrange association. We greatly ad­ mired Wasserman, whom we had known from the days of the MCA talent agency, and he was une­ quivocal in his offer to us. Your organization is in fact an autonomous one, working off the Universal lot .. . Zanuck: Well it’s not autono­ mous, because they do have the fin al cut and c o n tro l over everything. How then is Zanuck/Brown financed? Zanuck: Permanent finance by the studio. . Do you come up with the projects and then approach Universal for money? The biggest grossing film in history — Jaws. The weather-beaten Quint (Robert Shaw) and icthyologist Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) before the attack . . .

Zanuck: When we left Fox, we had a choice of either becoming ex­ ecutives in another studio, or going into independent production. We decided to stay in the executive ranks, and Ted Ashley was the First one to call. We made a five year deal at Warner Bros with him, but after about a year and a half we felt the need to get down to the front­ line producing ranks. That’s what I really had always wanted to do, but I just found myself drifting through the executive suite, further and further away from that ambition. I started producing pictures and had great fun doing it. So we decided, together, to leave Warner Bros, and tear up the contracts. Ashley was not happy about it, and it took him two or three weeks to give us an answer; but he Finally did and we formed the Zanuck/Brown com­ pany. Did you immediately go to MCAUniversal, or did you shop around?

Of the films produced by Zanuck and Brown, Ssssnake, Willy Dynamite, Sugarland Express, The Sting, Jaws and The Eiger Sanction have gone into the black. Above, Clint Eastwood's The Eiger Sanction.

Zanuck man, and when Adler died I still remained a Zanuck man. So through the politics of studio life we were sort of orphans of the storm: we got very close at that time. Dick was very helpful to me as a producer, and I served him as an executive on the DFZ Productions — I was their liaison at 20th Century-Fox. It was rather a tricky thing because I had to represent two companies, but I’ve learned to do that pretty well over the years. Could you tell us something about the circumstances surrounding your departure from Warner Bros, and your setting up an independent production unit?

Zanuck: We talked to every company, including Warner Bros., Paramount and Columbia. They all made very nice invitations, but after six weeks we decided on Universal. Were there any specifically attractive conditions that tipped the scales in Universal’s favour? Brown: First of all there was stab ility . At th a t tim e, the Hollywood film companies were going through a revolving door phase of executives and ownership. We knew that MCA-Universal was a well-endowed company, that there was no likelihood of being taken over by outside groups, that it had a continuity of management, and that it was dedicated to making and distributing Films. It also had - many protective resources, such as the most successful television and music publishing business. It seem­ ed to us that Universal was the

Brown: Yes. We brought them a script called The Sting. Was that the first project you did this way?

with Girl from Petrovka, which w^s a terrible flop for us, we thought that at that time there was a dearth of love stories and stories about women. There were very good reasons for making that picture. I don’t think we have ever felt quite the electricity that we did when we first read the script of The Sting. The same I suppose of Jaws. They were Films that Fitted into our philosophy of proving that we were no longer executives, that we were in fact Filmmakers. Brown: You made a very astute observation when you said that very few people realize that titles on a production slate, whether they be M.A.S.H. or Butch Cassidy, mean nothing at that stage. I’d also like to add a thing to what Richard’s said. When we formed the Zanuck/Brown com­ pany one of our convictions was that nobody could be smart enough and guess c o r r e c t l y a b o u t everything. So we determined that we wouldn’t be that selective, that we would take a number of shots at the market — we have modiFied that viewpoint since. But the notion was to have an eclectic slate. There w as no s uch t h i n g as a Zanuck/Brown movie, and we weren’t prepared to wait Five years for a major project. Our agency gave us, for example, a film called Lost Horizon. Now that, on paper, looked better than anything that we had just read at that time, and I’m sure we would have liked it.

Brown: We had done a num­ ber of projects because we did not want to join Universal, or any other company, on a blanket arrangement where they didn’t know what we wanted to produce, and we didn’t know if they would approve what we wanted to p ro d u ce. So we visited Mr Wasserman at his home and presented a number of projects, in­ Zanuck: But we wanted to cluding The Sting. We got an afFir­ mative response to the projects put prove that we were producers, that we weren’t too good for any sub­ forward. ject, that we didn’t have to make Were these projects your com­ multi-million dollars pictures. So pany had acquired options on, or many people said when I announc­ had you developed them to some ed our First picture Ssssnake: “You stage? guys must have gone crazy” . After Zanuck: Many of them, like all when we were president and ex­ MacArthur, were just ideas that we ecutive vice-president of Fox, we had formulated. That six week had been making the biggest pic­ period I talked about, when we tures of all time—Academy Award went from studio to studio, was not winning pictures and all that. But we formed a company and just spent in analysing which would suddenly made a picture about a man who be the best place to go, we spent days and hours just deciding on turns into a snake. They’d thought what kind of pictures we wanted to we’d gone bananas. But we thought it was a very make. good, exploitative idea that could As a matter of fact, many people are under the impression that we be made at a price. took The Sting with us from Brown: The budget of that Film Warner Bros. We never saw The was less than our com bined Sting while we were there. salaries. “The Sting” and “Jaws” have Just as a matter of interest, which been two of the film industry’s most successful hits. Looking at them at of your production slate so far have the stage you initially acquired gone into the black? them, they probably, and correct me Brown: From the standpoint of if I’m wrong here, looked in a sense the studio, the snake Film, Willy no different in their money-making potential from “The Eiger Sanc­ Dynamite, Sugarland Express, The tion” or “Girl from Petrovka” or Sting, The Eiger Sanction and Jaws “Black Windmill”. Did you initially have all recovered their costs, and see all of those as having equal some distribution and overhead. potential as to their money-making From our recollection of what it was like on the other side of the capacity? desk, they were shots at the market Zanuck: I wouldn’t say equal which succeeded. potential, but every project, even Continued on P.382 the failures, can be justified. Even Cinema Papers, March-April — 309

310 — Cinema Papers, March-April

M ontage from photographs by Takao Yasuzawa.

Jissoji is one of the more individualistic of the younger generation of directors now working in Japan. His films express a strong concern with Buddhism which possibly makes them seem ob­ scure to the casual Western viewer, and for this reason he is little known outside Japan. His four features so far, produced at regular in­ tervals since 1970, represent an impressive body of personal films which stand well beside the work of better-known directors like Oshima, Shinoda or Yoshida. Jissoji was born in 1937, in Japan, but spent the war years in China. He studied French at Waseda University, in Tokyo, and in 1959 entered one of Japan’s major television com­ panies, Tokyo Broadcasting System, as assistant director, graduating to director in 1964, and becoming responsible for a wide variety of programs from ‘home dramas’ to musical shows. In 1969, he left his job at T.B.S. because of a conflict with the management over his ‘unorthodox’ production methods; he had, for example, put political questions to participants in live variety shows, and had used unflattering angles when filming famous singers. After leaving T.B.S., he quickly established himself as a prodigiously active freelance direc­ tor of sponsored documentaries and commer­ cials (including a travelogue for Japan Air Lines which brought him to Australia in 1969). At the same time, he decided to invest in co­ productions with the Art Theatre Guild, the company which has long been the single most important driving force in creative cinema in Japan, sponsoring work from most of the major directors such as Ichikawa, Oshima, Shinoda, Imamura and others. Jissoji’s first film with ATG was a 40-minute short, Yoiyami Semareba (When the Even­ ing Comes), from an original screenplay by Nagisa Oshima, which had been written for television, but rejected. The story, about four bored students who test their strength of will and self-discipline by sealing themselves in a house and turning on the gas, revealed an element of Mishima-like masochism which was to emerge again in Jissoji’s features. His first full-length feature was Mujo, (translated variously as This Transient Life or This Passing Life), released in 1970. The narrative presents a tangle of melodramatic sex­ ual adventures: a girl made pregnant by her brother continues the incestuous relationship, but seduces and marries a servant in order to conceal the identity of the child’s father; an age­ ing artist invites his wife’s lover to live with them and share their bed; the wife seduces her stepson; the lover attempts to seduce a homosexual priest; and so on. As the title of the film suggests, Jissoji’s preoc­ cupation is, however, with certain abstractions lying behind the actions, and he lifts the sexual melodrama on to a symbolic plane by employing a visual style which is anything but functional in terms of narrative. Jarring camera angles and highly schematic tracking movements stress (often to the point of absurdity) his intellectual rather than emotional involvement in the action. And in perhaps his boldest experiment in the film, Jissoji contrives to have his characters wear masks which express their inner anguish or joy, and which immediately abstract the content of the scene. Mujo introduces a theme to be developed later (and more satisfactorily) in Jissoji’s third feature, Uta: the vitality of Japan’s ties with her ‘past’, contrasted with the destructive and alien trappings of modern life. The main setting of Mujo is hermetically enclosed and relatively timeless, and disruptions of this world are always associated with moder­ nity. The noise and speed of the Bullet Train repeatedly and menacingly break into images of Cinema Papers, March-April — 311

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Far right: Mandara, a spiritual and sexual odyssey. Right: The Brother (Ryo Tamura) is left by his sister when she marries a servant to conceal the identity of their child. Below: The incestuous lovers (Michiko Tsukusa and Ryo Tamura) from Mujo.

tranquility, and characters who react against the moral anarchy of the action are related closely with the modern outside world: one commits suicide by throwing himself under the Bullet Train; and when murder draws the action to a close, the antagonist is a visitor from the city, appalled by the behavior of the main characters. Conversely, the figure at the centre of the amorality is deeply absorbed in traditional Buddhist art, and the artist who invites him to share his wife gains spiritual energy from a classically-formed Buddhist carving which is the climactic work of his artistic career. While strength may come from the spirit of traditional Buddhism, the formalities of the religion are seen as corrupt and destructive. The central scene of the film is a long, schematic argument between the hero and a priest in a tem­ ple courtyard. Here, amid the beautiful temple buildings, the priest is seen to be sick and twisted, suppressing his true feelings and seething in perverted emotions. The Buddhist religion, as represented by this particular moral guardian, is ‘unnatural’ in that it tries to curb man’s spirit with a morality which is essentially intolerant of man. The inner spirit of Buddhism, however, which the hero and the old artist' have discovered through art, is different: it accepts man rather than rules him, and through it they have learnt to be free of ar­ tificial social conventions and morality. Within these terms, their sexual practices are not extravagant or amoral, but are uninhibited, uncorrupted expressions of emotion and love. Jissoji’s severe damning of organised religion in Mujo recurs from time to time throughout his work, and repeatedly his most sympathetic characters are able to find strength in the con­ tent of traditional Buddhist philosophy and the traditional Japanese culture which it has in­ formed. Jissoji’s second feature, Mandara (Mandate) explores similar themes, again using a title which marks the spiritual level of his interest. He uses a distorting and alienating visual style to present another chain of extravagant events. Throughout the film, he presents the action through an extreme wide-angle lens, and shifts between black and white and color, to narrate the sexual and spiritual odyssey of a young man Opposite page: The pilgrimage in search of spiritual solace, Asaki Yumemishi. Janet Hatta, right, and Chisako Hara (Jissoji’s wife), left.

and woman. Ritualized violence and sexual amorality pervade the action once again, linked by a preoccupation with the failure of formal Buddhism to satisfy the characters’ spiritual needs. A religious commune in the country (model­ ed on an actual Japanese sect) seems to provide an alternative, but only momentarily, and the characters continue with their journey and search. After the abstractions of Mujo and the even more pronounced non-natural style of Mandara, Jissoji changed style completely and produced his most important work. This film, released in 1972, was Uta, which means song or poem. However, the Chinese character which Jissoji uses to write the title also carries within it an old word for ‘brother’, which relates the title closely to the theme of the film. The English title is the unfortunately bland Poem. The story is based loosely on Herman Melville’s novel Bartleby (acknowledged by Jissoji in the name given to one of the minor characters in the film) and presents the theme of resistance to change in the context of a family struggle. Unlike the two earlier films, the setting is open, mundane and modern: no attempt is made to seal the characters in a contrived world of their own. The visual style, too, is markedly different from the earlier films: the geometric camera movements, the distorting camera lenses and the intellectual intensity are replaced by a casual, relaxed style and a strictly functional camera. The action is conventionally naturalistic in its detail. For all its modest appearances, Uta is by far Jissoji’s most intellectually stimulating film. The narrative centers on a conflict between the three sons of a wealthy old landowner. The old man is dying and two of the brothers begin prematurely to plan for the sale of the family’s estate — a forested mountainside which has been in the family for generations. The third and youngest brother opposes the others: to him the spirit of the family is embodied in the forest, and to sell it to developers will mean the end of the family as a meaningful unit. But the boy’s protests are ig­ nored by his more powerful brothers, and they roceed with their plan. The boy goes on a unger-strike as a protest, grows weak, and

finally dies alone in the forest. The plot — at face-value material for a television-style home drama — is transformed by Jissoji into a moving allegory on the crisis in modern Japanese society. The older brothers are identified closely with the corrupt and materialistic Japan: one is a weak, spineless creature, the other callous and ill-mannered. Their moral degeneration and brutality is acted out in scenes of sexual athletics which mis­ leadingly became the focus of the film’s rather sensationalistic publicity in Japan. The younger brother is cast in a different mould: he is attracted to ‘traditional’ skills and arts, and shuns the behavior and values of his brothers, seeking solace in a small Buddhist cemetery in the heart of the forest. The boy resembles the severe, self-disciplined and in­ troverted youths of Mishima’s novels (Jissoji had been drawn to Mishima’s work before, and had produced a play by Mishima on the Tokyo stage). The self-imposed hunger-strike is a protest against the brothers, but at the same time there is a strong element of sacrificing himself as a symbol of family (traditional) values in the face of an irreversibly corrupting force. The boy’s death is both a resolution to the family feud and a symbolic act which Jissoji presents with a superb and unexpected simplicity: the dying boy, alone in the forest, drags himself towards the family home where his father dozes peacefully in the sun; the final Cinema Papers, March-April — 313


death-crawl up the old stone stairway to the home is agonizingly observed by a static camera placed at the top of the steps. This closing image is as protracted as Jean­ Pierre Leaud’s run at the end of The 400 Blows and, as in the Truffaut film, the prolonging of the action lifts it from the functional narrative level to a symbolic plane. The boy’s death agony is not his alone, but also that of the spirit of traditional Japan which he represents. As in the Truffaut film, the boy’s final gaze is directly at the audience, both challenging and appealling. One may question the nature of the ‘traditional’ which Jissoji asks us to mourn, for within the context of the film the boy is in many ways a frightening character. His severity and single-mindedness suggest an extreme of conser­ vative anti-Western nationalism which seems as unhealthy as the materialism and gross behavior of the ‘modern’ characters in the film. The sym­ pathy which Jissoji generates for the young brother is one of the most disturbing features about this deceptively casual film. Jissoji’s fourth film was, like Uta, another new direction in his career. Asaki Yumemishi is a historical film, firmly within that peculiar Japanese tradition of historical films which are essentially modern dramas in period costume. The ‘present’ nature of so much of Japan’s ‘past’ is strongly represented in the film: the story, although set in the thirteenth century, is unmistakably from the 1970s. The theme is a woman’s search for fulfilment, both physical and spiritual, in a society which exploits and suppresses her. The title, Asaki Yumemishi, is typically Jisso­ ji’s: an exotic, abstract phrase from an old poem with strong Buddhist overtones, about “an end to shallow dreaming” . The film divides clearly into two parts: the first depicts a sterile and decadent court life in which the heroine emerges as a long-suffering victim of sexually-based repression. She is abused by a succession of three lovers (the last a Buddhist priest) and denied access to her children. Finally, she can take no more, and in the second part of the film, leaves the court on a pilgrimage in search of spiritual solace. Just as the pop singers who played the leading roles in Ichikawa’s mock-samurai epic, The Wanderers, provided a constant point of 314 — Cinema Papers, March-April

Middle: the self-disciplined and introverted young son (left) and his dying father. UTA. Above: an end to shallow dreaming: a court scene from Asaki Yumemishi.

reference with the present day, so the leading role in Jissoji’s film is taken by Janet Hatta, an extremely popular fashion model making a wellpublicised film debut. Her rounded eyes and modern mannerisms belie any pretension in the film to authentic historical reconstruction, and the link with modern preoccupations is stressed in the music score which, with its electronic music and atonal orchestral surging, constantly disrupts any ‘period atmosphere’.

Visually, the film is highly seductive: Jissoji uses the wide ’Scope screen to create a strong feeling of cool spaciousness in the court scenes, relieved by splashes of bright color in the costumes. Repeatedly the wide frame matches two or more images in striking counterpoint: the title sequence is especially magical, with a woman in white robes singing slowly and mourn­ fully against a background of raging fire. The crucial scene of the woman’s seduction by the priest is a set-piece of sensuality, with flashes of light and movement in a densely black screen, and with the echoing shock of the priest’s beads crashing to the polished floor and scattering across the room. Elsewhere the film sometimes verges on flam­ boyance, uncomfortably recalling the visual ex­ cess of Mujo, but the narrative drive is sufficient­ ly strong and involving to survive the occasional­ ly redundant visual stressing. In addition to these four extremely in­ teresting, if frustratingly uneven, features, Jissoji has made a number of ‘personal’ short films (distinct from his sponsored shorts) which reflect again the thematic preoccupations of his features. One of the most impressive is Nehan (Paradise), a 10-minute ‘poem’ exploring the spirit of Japan as represented by traditional Japanese dolls and the customs surrounding them. Using off-cuts from Asaki Yumemishi, as well as footage from a sponsored documentary, this 16mm film offers a sensually rich montage of image and sound effects to express the ‘har­ monizing’ influence of the dolls during centuries of troubled history. In many ways, Jissoji is more ‘Japanese’ than most: his preoccupations are only slightly less exotic in modern Japan, than they would be in the West. His is a highly personal and idiosyncratic cinema which will probably never find a wide public following in Japan, and which so far has almost completely been denied ex­ posure in the West, even in festivals. Yet in a national cinema, which is supposed to be failing and which has periodically been very unkind to its major artists, such as Kurosawa and Ichikawa, the very existence and continuity of a body of work as determinedly independent as Jissoji’s is a sure sign of creative potential sur­ viving within the commercial wilderness. *

GUIDE FOR THE AUSTRALIAN FILM PRODUCER In this first instalment of an 18-part series, Cinema Papers' contributing editor Antony I. Ginnane and Melbourne solicitor Leon Gorr dis­ cuss the aims and guidelines of the series, and the problems surrounding the acquisition of a property by a producer — the first step in the production-distribution-exhibition cycle. Other articles in the series will include: “The screenplay agreement” ; “ The productiondistribution agreement” ; “ Financing films in Australia” ; “The directors’ agreement” ; “The producer’s agreement” ; “Cast agreements” ; “ Crew ag reem en ts’’; “ Studio facilities agreements” ; “The legal problems of film music” ; “The acquisition of distribution rights for a completed film” ; “The film distributor and the la w ’’; “ The t h e a t r i c a l exhi bi t i on agreement” ; “The exhibitor and the law” ; “ N on-theatrical exhibition agreem ents” ; “Television and other ancillary distribution agreements” ; “Tax law and the film industry” . There are many different qualities and attributes that an aspirant film producer in Australia ought to possess. A partial list might include dogged persistence; some measure of marketing ability related to the commercial realities of Australian film exhibition; a flair for packaging an idea; a feel for administration; a talent for handling two or three concepts at the same time; a charismatic personality — the list is probably endless. Some of these attributes can be acquired through a variety of film activity. For example, to obtain some knowledge of the commercial values of the exhibition side of the industry the would-be producer might well try to work in some capacity at a cinema. Certainly not the least important quality, and in the writers’ view one of the most, is a

knowledge of the law as it applies to the film production-distribution-exhibition cycle. This knowledge has in the past been most difficult to acquire. There are only a few lawyers in Melbourne and Sydney who have knowledge in this area; but most of them have acquired their knowledge in a piecemeal fashion, and largely in response to specific requests by clients. It is not the purpose of this series of articles to provide a comprehensive text on film law — that would require several volumes and many thousands of pages. The idea, rather, is to dis­ cuss briefly a number of topics related to the pre­ production, production and post-production of Australian films, and to provide for each of these topics a number of sample precedents. However, while we disclaim any responsibility for their all inclusiveness or total accuracy, they should provide the producer and his lawyer with a guide to the areas that ought to be covered in any agreement relating to the topic. The producer should be warned in advance of the dangers inherent in a slavish adherence to any particular form. Every situation he en­ counters will be different and he will need to reflect this in his amendments to the standard form. We have tried to refrain as much as possible from reference to numerous cases, statutes and texts which frequently bedevil the readability of “introduction to” type texts. This, of course, has not always been possible — and for good reason. The producer should treat his acquisition of cer­ tain basic legal notions as seriously as he does his need to understand budgeting and accounting fundamentals, and so on. Most of the few texts in this field, and the precedents currently in existence, were written for the U.S. market. For an Australian producer they suffer from two major deficiencies. Firstly,

they generally presuppose major studio or dis­ tributor involvement at some stage of a proper­ ty’s life — frequently in the early stages. While it is now not uncommon for Roadshow Distributors or British Empire Film Distributors to provide finance to an independent producer in the pre-production stage, this has always been in conjunction with pre-production investment from other sources, be it the Film Commission, private investors, or a foreign distributor. Only Roadshow, with Tim Burstall’s Hexagon fea­ tures, has provided total pre-production finance. Thus the normal practice for an Australian in­ dependent producer will vary considerably from his U.S. counterpart who, unless he is aiming for a low budget exploitation film, will be looking to the major studios initially for finance. Secondly, there are many aspects of U.S. cor­ porate and taxation practice which are totally in­ applicable to the local scene. Specifically there is neither provision in Australia for the limited partnership (except in South Australia, although the proposed new tax laws allowing private com­ panies to be taxed on a partnership basis may be worth examining), nor are the notorious ‘tax shelter’ provisions of U.S. revenue law directly relevant, likewise the extensive requirements of the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission, the U.S. Copyright Office and the like, to which the American literature devotes much space. We have tried to aim these articles directly at the problems Australian producers will face in day-to-day activity. Undoubtedly there will be omissions, but as it is proposed to offer the series in a loose leaf volume at a later stage, there will be ample time for additions and corrections. We would welcome comment from those engaged in the areas covered, and can be con­ tacted care of Cinema Papers.

ACQUISITION OF A PROPERTY “The initial job of a producer is to acquire play or musical. A feature film, television film, motion picture rights to a property and develop television series, episode or the like may interest it to a point at which an investor or motion pic­ him with a view to attempting a remake or se­ ture distributor would be willing to finance its quel. (He may, of course, have an idea himself production.” — Producing, Financing and which he will want a writer to develop, but we Distributing Film: Baumgarten, P.A. Farbern restrict our discussion here to material of which D.C.: Drama Book Specialists New York 1973. rights are owned by some other person). In each case the producer will need to get The producer’s first activity must be to decide on, and get, the relevant rights to a property some sort of proprietary interest in the material which he may then develop into a package and he seeks to develop. Two problems immediately present to would-be financiers. There is, of arise. From whom should he seek to get the course, a bewildering amount of material in ex­ proprietary interest and what form should his in­ istence which the producer will have to choose terest take at this stage. Clearly, the person the producer must from. He may be presented with an original con­ cept or treatment which is a few pages in length; endeavor to get his propriety interest from is the he may be drawn to a novel or short story in actual owner of the rights to the material — cloth or paperback form; or he may be offered most specifically the producing rights — and an unpublished novel or story — likewise a stage though he may feel personally safe in dealing

with an agent who warrants that his client is the owner, the question of copyright must become a consideration. Copinger and Shore James note (1): “Copyright is to be distinguished from the rights conferred by patent, trade mark and design legislation which give to the registered proprietor an exclusive right to the registered material, even as against a person who has reproduced such material innocently from an in­ dependent source” . Copyright is not so much a right to do something, as a right to restrict the doing of acts by others. The law on statutory copyright in Australia is (1) Copinger and Shore James on Copyright 11th Ed. by E. P. Shore James: Sweet & Maxwell, London, 1971.

Cinema Papers, March-April — 315


found in the Copyright Act 1968-1973 (as amended). The Act provides for copyright to subsist for the following original works and sub­ ject matters: literary works, dramatic works, musical works, artistic works, sound recordings, cinematograph films, television broadcasts, sound broadcasts and published editions of work. The Act defines copyright as the ex­ clusive right to do certain acts in relation to the specific work in question. In the case of a literary work, for example, copyright gives the holder the exclusive right to: (i) Reproduce the work in a material form; (ii) Publish the work; (iii) Perform the work in public; (iv) Broadcast the work; (v) Cause the work to be transmitted to sub­ scribers of a diffusion service; (vi) Make an adaptation of the work; (vii) Do in relation to a work that is an adap­ tation of the first mentioned work any of the acts specified in relation to the first mentioned work in rights (i) to (v) above. Copyright in a literary, dramatic or musical work continues to subsist until 50 years from the end of the year in which the author died. However, if the work is not, in the author’s lif­ time, published or performed in public or offered for sale on records or broadcast, copyright will continue to subsist until 50 years from the end of the year which includes the earliest occasion on which one of those four events took place. The duration of copyright in artistic work, sound recordings and cinematograph films is similar to the above, but readers should refer to the Act for specific differences. Historically, copyright had its origins in Bri­ tain in the fifteenth century when Caxton’s printing press began to supersede for authors the laborious process of hand-copying manuscripts. Initially various printers were granted ‘privilegii’ TABLE 1 CODE:

by the Crown, and later authors. These privileges were used by the Crown as much in a negative way to aid in strict religious and political censorship as they were to protect ‘the exclusive right in copy to make copies’. These common law copyright prerogatives wFre merged with statutory copyright with the passing of the first Copyright Act in Britain in 1710. The Statute of Anne (8 Anne C19) granted copyright for 21 years to books in print and 14 years to new books, with a 14-year right of renewal. Over the next 50 years British courts began to clearly identify the nature of copyright and the protections that flowed from it. The House of Lords, Donaldson V Beckett (1774, 4 Burr 2408) held that publication puts an end to the Common Law perpetual right and that after publication an author has to base his claim for protection upon his statutory right, if any. Similarly, the U.S. Supreme Court in­ terpreting the first U.S. copyright statute (Act of May 31, 1790, C-15, I Stat 124) in Wheaton V Peters (8 Peters 591, 660-1) (1834), noted: “Congress then by this Act, instead of sanction­ ing an existing right as contended for, created it” . Both the House of Lords and the Supreme Court in the above cited decisions addressed themselves to the nature of statutory copyright. Unpublished works, however, retain their original copyright, and this is, as noted, similar­ ly provided for in the Australian Copyright Act by Section 33 (3). The Australian producer must first discover, therefore, whether the work in question has been published. For most literary and dramatic works of Australian origin, he may check the National Library and the various State libraries which have statutory deposit requirements. For most musical works and sound recordings of Australian origin he should check with the



Party to the Universal C o pyright Convention as in Australia. The effective date is given fo r each country. The effective date for Australia was May 1, 1969.


Party to the Berne Union (original convention 1886, and reviewed 1896, 1908, 1929, 1948 and 1967.) BILATERAL


Australian Performing Right Association of 25­ 27 Albany St, Crows Nest NSW (APRA has reciprocal arrangements with corresponding associations in the U.S., Europe and Britain). Few Australian producers have yet probably given much thought to the remaking of old Australian films, but in the event of the original distributor or producer being untraceable, the Film Censorship Board, in Sydney, should have details of publication and other relevant infor­ mation. Once it has been established when the work was published, if it is still within the protected period, an appropriate fee will need to be paid to the copyright holder after negotiation. If it is no longer within the 50-year time limit, it may well be in the public domain and available for im­ mediate use. If the work has never been published, it is probably still protected, but it may be a thankless task indeed to trace the present owner of the material. It is even more unlikely that he will be able to demonstrate a satisfactory chain of title. ' Generally one’s first step with published» material is to approach the publisher of the material to hand. With unpublished material some attempt should be made to trace the estate of the original author by research (the U.S. Copyright Office will provide a list of inter­ national copyright searchers), or by adver­ tisement. Producers may also find themselves concern­ ed with original works that are not of Aus­ tralian origin; and thus the question of inter­ national copyright needs to be considered. Protection against unauthorised use in a par­ ticular country depends basically on the par­ ticular laws of the country in question. In short, there is no such thing as an “international copy­ right” to automatically protect an author’s

No copyrig ht relations with Australia.

Bilateral c opyrig ht relations with Australia by virtue of a proclam ation or treaty.



Became in depend ent since 1943. Has not established cop yrig h t relations with Australia, but may be honoring obliga tions incurred under form er political status.

None. None. Unclear. U.C.C. Sept. 16, 1955. U.C.C. Feb. 13, 1958. Berne. U.C.C. July 2, 1957. Unclear. U.C.C. Aug. 31, 1960. Berne. None. None. Unclear. U.C.C. Jan. 13, 1960, Berne. Berne. Unclear. Unclear. U.C.C. Sept. 16, 1955. Berne. U.C.C. Sept. 16, 1955, Berne.




None. Unclear. None. Unclear. U.C.C. Apr. 16, 1963, Berne. U.C.C. Jan. 14, 1956, Berne. Berne. Unclear. Berne. U.C.C., Sept. 16, 1955, Berne. U.C.C. Aug. 22, 1962. U.C.C. May 24, 1963, Berne. U.C.C. Oct. 28, 1964. Unclear. Unclear. U.C.C. Sept. 16, 1955. U.C.C. Oct. 5, 1955, Berne. None. U.C.C. Jan. 23, 1971, Berne. U.C.C. Dec. 18, 1956, Berne. U.C.C. Jan. 21, 1958, Berne. Unclear. None. None. U.C.C. Jan. 20, 1959, Berne. U.C.C. Sept. 16, 1955, Berne. U.C.C. Jan. 24, 1957, Berne. Berne. Unclear. U.C.C. Apr. 22, 1956, Berne. Unclear. U.C.C. Sept. 7, 1966. Unclear. Unclear. U.C.C. Sept. 16, 1955.




U.C.C. Oct. Unclear. U.C.C. July Unclear. U.C.C. Jan. U.C.C. Oct. Berne. U.C.C. Oct. Unclear.

17, 1959, Berne. 27, 1956. 22, 1959, Berne. 15, 1955, Berne. 26, 1965.

Unclear. Berne. U.C.C. Nov. 19, 1968, Berne. Unclear. U.C.C. Mar. 12, 1968. U.C.C. May 12, 1957, Berne. U.C.C. Sept. 16, 1955 , Berne. Berne. Unclear. None. U.C.C. June 22, 1967, Berne. U.C.C. Sept. 11, 1964 Berne. U.C.C. Aug. 16, 1961. Berne. . U.C.C. Feb. 14, 1962. U.C.C, Jan. 23, 1963, Berne. None. U.C.C. Sept. 16, 1955, Berne. U.C.C. Oct. 17, 1962. U.C.C. Mar. 11, 1962. U.C.C. Oct. 16. U n e s c o c o n s id e r s U .C .C . status, Berne. Berne. U.C.C. Dec. 25, 1956, Berne. Berne. Unclear. None.




None. Berne. Unclear. Unclear. Unclear. Berne. None. U.C.C. Sept. 16, 1955, Berne. Unclear. Unclear. U.C.C. July 1, 1961, Berne. U.C.C. M arch 30, 1956, Berne. Unclear. Unclear. Berne. Unclear. None. Unclear. U.C.C. June 19, 1969, Berne. Berne. Unclear. None. U.C.C. Sept. 27, 1917, Berne. Unclear. Berne. U.C.C. Sept. 30, 1966. Unclear. Unclear. Unclear. None. U.C.C. M ay 11, 1966, Berne. U.C.C. June 1, 1965.

(For enq uiries conce rning the Berne C onvention w rite to: United International Bureaux fo r the Protec­ tio n o f In te lle c tu a l P ro p e rty , 32, C h em in des C olom bettes (Place des Nations), 1211 Geneva 20 Sw itzerland).

316 — Cinema Papers, March-April


writings throughout the world. Most countries offer protection to foreign works under con­ ditions that have been simplified by inter­ national copyrights, treaties and conventions. These conventions include the Universal Copyright Convention which came into force on September 16, 1955, and which Australia ratified on May 1, 1969. The UCC requires a participating country to give the same protection to foreign works that meet the convention re­ quirements, as it gives its own domestic works. To qualify for protection under the convention a work must have been written by a national of a participating country', or must have been published for the first time in a participating country. Table 1 above, attempts to give some indications of the state of copyright relations between Australia and various countries. The U.S. Copyright Office (Copyright Office, Library of Congress, Washington DC 20540 USA) provides a series of free forms and cir­ culars concerning copyright to interested parties, and all local producers should familiarise themselves with its procedures and re­ quirements. The machinery of the U.S. office can speedily assist in establishing whether a par­ ticular U.S. work is in the public domain, or whether it is still protected. The following forms and circulars are perti­ nent (and especially Form L-M for films which is published below); Form C (copyright in scripts); Form E (copyright in songs); Form A and B (other copyrightable material); Circulars 38A, 38B and 38C on U.S. International

copyright procedures; Circulars 47 and 48 on radio, television and musical works; and Cir­ cular 48 B on unpublished synopses, formats and outlines (which cannot be registered as many producers circulating treatments have found to their disaster). The U.S. office also provides semi-annual and cumulative catalogues of registered works; and for an hourly fee will provide copyright searches to ascertain what registrations have been made. Producers should, of course, be aware that because of the differing copyright laws of par­ ticular countries a work that is in the public do­ main in the U.S., for example, (copyright may not have been renewed after the original two years have expired) may still be protected, say in Australia. These problems will become more im­ portant as international sales become more fre­ quent for Australian productions. Once the producer and his lawyer believe they have established the owner, if any, of the proprietary rights in the work the producer is concerned with, the question arises as to what sort of arrangement should be initially con­ sidered. Normally the procedure is to seek an ex­ clusive option. This enables the producer, generally without a large expenditure of funds, to tie up a property for a time long enough to do development work on it and present it to backers or distributors without having made a binding final commitment to the material. The owner of the work will get something in hand and may get a good deal more thereafter. It is crucial that the option agreement between

the author and the producer has annexed to it a literary purchase agreement that will become effective if the option is exercised. Normally the option price should represent between five and 10 per cent of the total purchase price to be paid if the option is exer­ cised. Natiirally one can put no average figure on what this total amount may be, as it will vary perhaps from a few hundred dollars for a short story or the like, to a million dollars or more for a best seller. Set out below is a precedent for an option and agreement, Precedent 2, to acquire film rights to a novel. Options can also be used by the aspirant producer to put a ‘hold’ on talent and ‘step deal’ the development of the screenplay contingent on finance. Thus when and if the package becomes financed, he is in a position to move almost immediately into advanced pre­ production. PRECEDENT 1: OPTION AGREEMENT TO ACQUIRE MOTION PICTURE RIGHTS TO ACQUIRE A NOVEL AND ATTACHED LITERARY PURCHASE AGREEMENT. OPTION AGREEMENT THIS AGREEMENT m ade the day of 1976 between XYZ PUBLISHING CO M PANY of M elbourne in the State of V ictoria Australia, Book Publishers (hereinafter called “the O w ner” ) of the one part and ABC Film s Pty Ltd of M elbourne in the said State (herlnafter called “ the Purchaser” ) of the other part. WHEREAS the O wner is the sole and exclusive ow ner thro ughout the entire w orld of all rights (except as elsewhere set forth In this agreem ent) in and to the lite rary or dram atic w ork entitled: “ Cinem a Papers” and m ore fully described In paragraph of the Literary Purchase A geeem ent hereto and hereafter called the "L ite ra ry Purchase A g ree m en t” (which literary or dram atic w ork, and the plot, them es, characters and copyrig ht thereof and any translations, novélisations, dram atisations, serializations, sequels and other adaptions or versions thereof now in existence or thereafter created, are herein, together referred to as the "P ro p e rty ” ) and

Continued on P. 377




Application for "Registration of a Claim


in a motion picture

S. N aaia and a d d rn tt a f p arte a a r c rfa tU a H e a to a k t a « arratpaadaac« a r retoad. If aay. s to aid be M att 0 0 N O T W R IT E H E R E LP lu nr MU

Mail all pages of the application to the Register of Copy­ rights, Library of Congress, W ashington, D.C., 20540, together with: (a ) If unpublished, title and description, prints as described on page 4, and the registration fee of $6. (b ) If published, two complete copies, description, and the registration fee of $6. Make your remittance payable to the Register of Copyrights.

h f t r a c t i o i f : Make sure that all applicable spaces have been completed before you subm it the form. The application must be SIONIO at line 10. For published works the application should oot be subm itted until after the date of publication given iti line 5- (a ), and should state the facts which existed on that date. For further inform ation, see page 4. Pages 1 and 2 should be typewritten or printed with pen and ink. Pages 3 and 4 should contain exactly the tame inform a­ tion aa pages 1 and 2, but may be carbon copies.

7. If r« ,litre tl« a fa« It to b< c h a r, ad to a ¿ « p e tit ac ca aaf n tiab lltk a d In tfc> C ip y rifk t OPU«, f le a a a m» a# l l i w l i



1. Copyright G « la « x t( s ) an d Address (es) : Give the nam e(s) and address(es) of the copyright o w oer(i). works the oam e(s) should ordinarily be the same as in the notice of copyright on the copies.

M i n t _________________________

— .......................... -.............

Addrwt--------------------------- ---------------- ---------

f . Seed « « rtfte a to tot

(Type or prim atm e tnd gddresa) i

For published

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1975 CHICAG O FILM FESTIVAL filli - ' ¡Kina in i.

The shy bakery assistant and the 'liberated' Swede with a temporary accommodation problem. Jacques Doillon's self-assured first feature, Touched in the Head (Les Doigts dane la Tate).

Founded 11 years ago by its director Michael Kutza, and still to a considerable extent dependent on private finance, the Chicago Film Festival originated as a showcase of first feature films. The economics of survival have long since forced it to an almost unparalleled eclec­ ticism; this year’s Festival involved 33 entry categories and some titles unlikely to rate in the box-office charts. (Caustic Soda, Familiar as an Old Shoe, provok­ ed p a rtic u la r'm irth at the awards ceremony, though my personal favorite — from the "Health, Medicine and Safety” section — was a catchy short by the name of The Case for en Bloc Cadaver Nephrectomies).

Not even the feature film section, the only one open to the public, was immune from the Festival’s expansionist tenden­ cies, with big-budget, high-gloss produc­ tions opening (Losey’s The Romantic Englishwoman) and closing (Forman’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest) the program, and Wajda’s epic spectacular, The Promised Land, picking up the top prize. Yet, in spite of the glitter of both presentation and patrons, Chicago’s dis­ tinctive merits as a festival still lie essen­ tially in its selection of exciting first features. Of these, the most quietly self-assured came from a new French director, Jac­ ques Doillon. Shot in black and white, and with much of its action confined to the attic bed-sitter in which a young baker barricades himself, Touched in the Head inevitably sparked com­ parisons with Eustache’s The Mother and the Whore. Especially since its hero is joined in his voluntary sequestration (a protest against adult authority in general and his unfair dismissal in particular) by a pair of teenage girlfriends: one a shy bakery assistant whom he has recently deflowered, the other a ‘liberated’ Swede with a temporary accommodation problem. A fourth character — the baker’s pal — also beds down in the attic from time to time, trying unsuccessfully to make it with either of the girls and watching his friend’s exploits with a mix­ ture of envy and scientific curiosity. Yet, though they talk about all the big problems — how to live, where and with whom, what to do for money — Doillon’s characters differ from Eustache’s in that

they are trying neither to hurt nor im­ press one another, and their sense of generational solidarity transcends their rivalries in work or love. If the trio are im­ pressed by the Swedish girl, it is because she makes them concretely aware of possibilities wider and less drab than those for which their own society has conditioned them. Even as she char­ mingly bosses them ail around (and makes sure the baker sticks with his con­ servative first girl), she gives them an in­ toxicating sense of their own freedom to choose. Doillon is enough of a realist to suggest that what they choose will not in the end be that different from what their parents would choose for them. But steering well clear of the metaphysical void, his refreshing film achieves an authentic balance, with work and money as large a preoccupation as sex in defin­ ing each of its adolescent’s revolt. Doillon’s wit and precision gave Touched in the Head the edge over an American first feature not all that different in subject. Loose Ends, by David Burton Morris and Vicky Wozniak, concerns a couple of young car mechanics in the mid-West, one of them married and uneasy in his role as head of an impoverished household, the other newly divorced and determined to in­ volve his friend in an unfocused quest for fun, adventure and the wild life. The fun — always just one beer away in an endless succession of dreary bars, pool halls and discos — leaves the pair still dissatisfied and does nothing for the health of the marriage already strained by neglect. Eventually, the two (who have earlier seen Easy Rider at a drive-in) head west in a beat-up car. The journey is a disaster. Once it becomes apparent that, for the desperate divorcee, hap­ piness will always be a mirage in the next town down the road, the married man bolts back home to his grease-monkey existence. Loose Ends is uncannily accurate in its description of small-town frustration, but its own horizons are severely limited by the combination of a cinema verite style and characters who lack any real self­ awareness. Infinitely more ambitious and daun­ tingly self-confident was the first feature

Opposite page: The married man and his grease-monkey existence. Burton Morris and Vicky

Wozniak’s Loose Ends.

Legacy — that rarest of species, a 'woman’s film ’, about the female condition, that dares to be tough, unsentimental and, above all, witty.

by another American, Karen Arthur. Binnie’s undirected energies and scatter­ Scripted by its lead actress Joan brain are so skilfully portrayed that we Hotchkis and originally produced on only gradually become aware of the stage, Legacy is essentially a one- film’s near-classical structure. Her day is woman show which only in its final a slow descent into breakdown and minutes betrays its fundamentally madness, and by the time this assumes theatrical nature. It is that rarest of an overtly histrionic form, a whole valuespecies, a ‘woman’s film’, about the system stands indicted. female condition, that dares to be tough, Not a first feature, but still bearing all unsentimental and, above all, witty. The the hallmarks of 'young cinema’, was the action follows a day in the life of affluent resourcefully inventive Indian film matron Binnie Hapgood, whose non-stop Duvidha (The Dilemma). Its director, commentary moves between inner Mani Kaul, makes a stylistic virtue of ob­ monologue, talking aloud to herself, and vious econom ic necessity in his an endless series of unnecessary phone- cautionary fairytale of a neglected wife calls. Each tiny incident in an essentially who for five years knowingly enjoys an empty day unleashes a flood of affair with a ghost who has assumed the memories, many of them traumatic and form of her absent husband. several also grotesquely humorous, like In richer or less sensitive hands the Binnle’s girlhood idyll with a young slightly risque subject might have formed diabetic who suffers an insulin attack in the basis for some lush Arabian Nights mid-coition. spectacular. But Kaul, who uses a caustic Slapstick and pain are invariably in­ commentary to bind together disjointed tertwined, both of them honeyed over by shots of what are often barely moving ob­ the balm of words through which the jects — the trees from which the ghost heroine endeavors to \convince herself first spots the bride, the latter’s hands on that she's a thoroughly nice person, en­ her miserably loveless honeymoon — joying the best of all possible lives and achieves a delicate balance between marriages in the best of all possible emotion and irony, and allows the action milieux. Following her analyst’s advice to to be suggested rather than shown. This keep busy, she fusses over matching elliptical technique serves his subject butter knives, prepares a center-piece well, since part of his theme is that out­ for an impending dinner party, and ward appearances are no clue to inner leaves one of her society friends waiting feelings. on the phone while she distractedly With no overt pretensions beyond the masturbates with a sponge in the bath­ telling of a tail story, his film quietly tub. charts and analyses, through its distanc­ The empty loneliness of her well- ed and mildly ludicrous characters, the trimmed existence is evident from the shades of feeling that, the world over, disconcerting start — some childhood have made adultery the most popular of reminiscences offered to her geriatric forbidden fruit, * mother as the latter swims naked, wrinkl­ ed and unhearing round the family pool. Copyright Jan Dawson 1975 Cinema Papers, March-April — 319










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SYDNEY POLLACK on actors, direction and screenwriters

U .S . director Sydney Pollack began his film career when he enrolled at Sanford M eisner’s Neighborhood Playhouse at the age of 17. There he studied from 1952-4, serving also as M eisner’s assistant till 1960. During this period Pollack acted in several Broadway productions, and with Robert Redford in Denis Sanders’ film, “War Hunt” (1962). Acting, however, soon gave way to directing with Pollack hiring himself out as a drama coach — including a stint as dialogue coach on John Frankenheimer’s “The Young Savages” . ON A C T O R S

In 1965, and after several years in television directing “The Naked City” , “The Defenders” and “ Chrysler Theater” , Pollack directed his first film, “The Slender Thread” . He has since gone on to complete nine features, including “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?” , “Jeremiah Johnson” , “The Way We W ere” , “ Castle Keep” and “The Yukuza” . In the following interview, conducted by David Brandes at the Warner Brothers Studio, Pollack discusses his attitudes to acting, direction and screenwriters — specifically in relation to his latest film, “Three Days of the Condor” .

Do you find a difference in work­ the sound of his own voice, or being ing with an actor who’s been trained terribly aware of what he is con­ in Method, as opposed to a more veying. Sometimes you can objectify classical approach? their concentration in such a way Yes, very much, though the that it frees their behavior and Well, it is very influential in difference is in the vocabulary, not they begin to respond naturally. terms of my approach to directing, the point of view. But though they The way you nod your head has and I am sure influential in terms of may not agree with each other in nothing to do with what you’re how the films turn out. Certainly it terminology, or even in principles thinking about. It has to do with the is not an essential thing to have, but and ways of working, the objective fact that you are listening to me and it’s a great help for me, in that I of each actor is absolutely the losing your own self-awareness, o r ie n t m y s e lf to w a rd s th e same: to make their role as full of though you will get it back when characters a great deal and to the reality and a sense of truth as is you ask the next question. But the real listening that you are doing way they behave in their individual possible. The classically trained actor can now is what made you smile. You*, moments together. work from a method approach didn’t have to think to smile, or Some of the earlier directors, like without even knowing that he is do­ nod, or say “ right” , it just happens John Ford, used to act along with ing it, if he is just given a few because of what I am doing. If you can put that kind of atten­ actors to get the performance they guidelines on how to place his con­ tion outside of the actor, then it centration. wanted. Do you tend to do this? d o esn ’t m atter w hether he’s clasically trained or not, a certain It depends on the nature of the Can you give an example? kind of organic truthful behavior is scene. Sometimes during a close-up Well, essentially the starting going to happen. of an actor I’ll play the other acttor’s role in order to get the specific point of all behavior comes from a Some actors must come on to the thing I am looking for. Most of the certain kind of concentration. time it is better for an actor to have Usually the enemy of reality is a set much better prepared to act a the real person there, but it’s oc­ kind of self-awareness, on the acr scene than others. Presumably you casionally easier for me to control tor’s part, which leads to self­ would then have a different task with the emotion or color when I am off consciousness or self-watchfulness. each one. Did you find this on For example, an actor hearing “Three Days of the Condor”? camera.

To what e x t e n t is your background in acting significant, as opposed to, let’s say, a background in writing?

Opposite: the death of the gunman and the end of the ‘ballet’.

There was a great variation, in that some actors are better self­ starters than others. Your job then becomes one of selection, rather than stimulation. There are actors who are quite capable of executing choices with a certain degree of reality, just as there are actors who wait to be told precisely what to do. Max von Sydow, on the one hand, is probably used to a different way of working than the one we use in the U.S., but he is such an excep­ tionally gifted actor that whatever he does is going to be Filled with a certain degree of truth. We then begin to collaborate on concepts about character. Faye, on the other, is a studious method performer, as orthodox a method actress as you could Find. Her questions, her homework, all have to do with the inner life of the character and how that manifests itself externally. Bob absolutely detests rehear­ sals, and doesn’t like to make choices. His work is different in every take, not because he is trying to be different, but because he real­ ly lacks self-watchfulness. I mean he is a listener, and that is why he is Cinema Papers, March-April — 321


That was a wonderful moment in “Three Days of the Condor” , where Faye Dunaway is held hostage in her own apartment by Robert Red­ ford, and the tension has just got to be so much for her that she starts to cry .. . Yes. What happened was that she realized he was going to leave, and the relief permitted what she had wanted to do all the time, which was to cry. That would be the way I would talk to Faye about it. In other words, I would be saying that the tears are going ■on un­ derneath from the beginning, but the character she’s playing is that of one who uses humor, rather than tears, as a protective device. When the danger is off and she realizes that he will be going in the mor­ ning, she gets to talk to him like a friend. So, it’s a combination of that relief and the insight he has given her, through the photographs, on her loneliness and inability to be close with someone. He says to her, “ You would rath e r be with somebody who is on his way, somebody who is not going to be here in the morrow” . That as much as anything makes her cry. Did you have to get any more specific with her in that particular instance, or was that sufficient? The specificness with Faye came on a day-to-day basis, so that by the time we reached that scene she un­ derstood the part very, very well. We had many discussions about who this girl was, how she wore her hair, the way she dressed in black in the beginning, then changed into beige and loosened her hair, the way we decorated her apartment in neutral beige and grey tones, so there would be no brightness or warmth in the apartment, apart from two small lanterns. The area that she was most con­ cerned about was the humor. It was not something she has often played before and as such she was a little bit uncomfortable with it. Faye is normally cast in rather neurotic or intense emotional roles, and it was the first time she had tried to han­ dle comedy. But it’s not straight comedy, it has absolute reality and truth in it. She ended up handling it very well. 322 — Cinema Papers, March-April

Cliff Robertson — method actor.

Faye Dunaway, a studiously method actress.

Faye Dunaway and the intensity of fear,


Max von Sydow as Joubert the assassin.


often better when he is not speaking at all. He is a superb reactor and enjoys the process of acting, though he doesn’t enjoy the attendant dif­ ficulties of being a star. Cliff Robertson is a guy who used to be very much a method ac­ tor, but I think as he’s got older he has fallen a victim to some of the vanities that films tend to give you. After you have seen yourself in close-up so many times, you begin to be more watchful; you begin to realize that there are certain angles that are better, etc. That’s sad in a way because it does interfere — but it’s a survival technique that many actors develop.

She got very good house laughs in the theatre . . . She always does. The role is perhaps more interesting than had it been played by a comedienne, because the humor comes out as wit, rather than one-liners. With a comedienne, it would have been schtick, I’m afraid. Can you give me an example where an actor wasn’t giving you what you wanted, after having dis­ cussed it in general terms, which forced you to discuss it more specifically?

“ One must objectify the concentration of the actors so that they can free, their behavior and begin to respond naturally.”

always be on guard for, because it’s absolutely normal for the actor to change completely during the hour and a half between set-ups. What you also have to fight, when going from a master to a close-up, is the tremendous lowering of energy due to the camera and crew being closer. The sense of communication across a room is not the same as when the actor is only three feet away in close-up. You make mis­ takes, and sometimes I’ve been un­ able to cut precisely where I’ve wanted to, because I couldn’t match the emotional levels of the performance.

One of the things Faye had dif­ ficulty with was the intensity of fear. Consequently, during the close-ups I would play Redford’s role off stage and not only say the lines but, in the way I spoke and ad libbed, push her towards the inten­ sity I wanted. I could be more crazy than Red­ ford was, and could get her to a point where the fear was more ON D IR E C T IO N focused, more specific, and where she was more locked on to what I was doing than in the master where D. W. Griffiths used to consider there was all that distance and the close-up as ‘The Holy Grail’ of space between herself and the filmmaking. Do you treat them camera. with similar reverence? One of the most difficult things must be maintaining a consistency of emotional carry-over as you go from shot to shot. How do you en­ sure that?

It’s probably a weakness I have, and I tend to pay more attention to close-ups than to a master, which, I suppose, is a carry-over from television. I have been occasionally criticized for using too many closeWell, there isn’t any way to en­ ups, not so much by audiences or sure it; you just have to trust your film critics, but by producers. own eye. It is something you must One of the reasons I use so many

Kathy (Faye Dunaway) distracts the Postman so as Joe can reach the gun and shoot him.

is that close-ups permit me to instill my own rhythm into a scene. In a master I am locked into whatever rhythm the actor has given me; into w h a te v e r im p o r ta n c e or significance each moment has. This is partly because I shoot in long masters, usually without breaking them up. Do you orchestrate the camera in a way that facilitates cutting? Yes, and though I hope to get a


offensive, and you just hope that Redford can handle the fight long enough. It was choreographed ex­ tremely carefully.

One could claim, however, that such an ending leaves one dis­ satisfied . . .

I don’t feel satisfied either, but that dissatisfaction for me is a plus. In other words, I like that dis­ satisfaction. I prefer to make an Oh, before the shooting. I went audience want more than err in the on to the set and laid it out the day other direction. I’ve had a lot of before. You can’t rush the staging fantasies about what happened to of that, because there are a lot of her: will they ever see each other things to think out. I had to have again? Is he on the run now? Will he the mailman’s back to the bedroom leave that street at the end, head for door when Faye comes out, so that Vermont and try to find her again? she could distract him long enough And if he did, what would her at­ for Redford to reach the gun and titude be if she had to confront him shoot him. The only weapons he with the guy that she’s with now? could use in the room were a strobe All those things are interesting to light and a poker by the fire, so we me, more interesting than had they just worked backwards from there. spent the rest of the film together. He also ended up using the rug, Sometimes less is more; it just is. which I thought of when I walked What exactly was your intent around and around the set. You can get an image of the style, but the when the CIA agent turns to Red­ ford at the end of the film and says, specifics are very difficult. “Poor fool!”? Did you actually go through the fight yourself? You don’t think the stories we reading about plots to kill Jack Yes. I’d go through the fight are Anderson and plots to assassinate from beginning to end, just like it Castro aren’t to the was a dance, until I got the sense of CIA? You don’t damaging think that curtails rhythm. When it was slowed down I CIA activities and that the CIA could quickly see the shots I had to doesn’t believe that jeopardizes the make and where I had to have the United States security? camera in order to get them. I don’t believe it’s damaging, but Then we’d start getting into I certainly understand how a CIA geography problems, because when man would believe it was. I do a fight is all over a room, it is ex­ believe that all these stories leaked tremely difficult to find the best to the New York Times are serious­ angle for each specific blow or ly hampering the good work, as punch and still manage to keep the well as the bad, that the CIA has to people moving in the right screen do. I don’t believe that the CIA is direction. Otherwise, the audience just a bunch of terrible moustachebecomes very confused about twirling villains. I believe that they who’s where in the room. have a function and a purpose, and One of the problems of making a that all the attendant publicity is film like this is that, with a very few hurting them very badly. The other exceptions, the spy-thriller as genre intelligence agencies are function­ usually relies on so many gimmicks ing like crazy now and we’ve got to and devices that you find your in­ be very, very careful that we don’t telligence being insulted. If you do something that’s going to come have read James Bond and those out again in the newspapers. kind of things, then you are willing to go along with it. That attitude is also very strongly There is another end to the supported in the film, by there not spectrum — like John le Carre, being a good guy and a bad guy . . . whom I always find brilliant. There is super intelligence at work in his I hate that in films and I have books. But then The Spy Who Came in from the Cold didn’t do never done it, though I often get well at all commercially — nobody criticized for not doing it. People wanted to see it. It was so in­ say it wasn’t clear who was the telligently done that it robbed the villain: “ How can you have a spy audience of all the thrills they ex­ film with no villain?” Well baloney. The villain is larger than the pect in a spy film. So, the difficulty of working phenomenon of needing to have an within this genre, for me, is to blend intelligence agency. We are the the two: to give the audience their ones that finance the CIA and the money’s worth in terms of a first ones to scream when a Pearl visceral experience and still not in­ Harbor happens. We want in­ sult everybody’s intelligence. That’s telligence gathering, but all their a difficult thing to do and is one of moral checks aren’t working. I cer­ the reasons why I didn’t want Faye tainly want a CIA, but I don’t want and Bob to end up going off one th a t’s going to tap my telephone because I made an anti­ together into the sunset. One can’t generalize, but it seems CIA film; and I don’t want an hogwash to me that after only eight agency that is going to assassinate hours with her she will change her Castro just because of his political entire life. I am not saying that ideology. I didn’t want to take a cheap shot couldn’t happen, but it wouldn’t necessarily be the reality of the at the CIA in Condor, that would have been too easy. situation. Was that done before the shooting, or during the cutting?

“The problem was to stop Redford looking like a super fighter, although he is victorious in the end.”

There was one particularly terrifying moment in “Three Days of the Condor”, when the mailman comes into the apartment, pulls out a gun and threatens to kill them. The first time I saw the film I thought it was extremely clever and complex, but the second time I noticed that the technique was not very involved, though it again work­ ed perfectly. How do you account for the intensity of that particular scene? Well, the situation is going for you. The scene divides itself into two parts. The first part where you know you are into gold territory, as far as audience reactions go, is the cut to the mailman. He was cast by his very distinctive face, so that you would remember him as the assassin from the earlier scene. Therefore, the first time you cut to him you know there is going to be a “ When shooting a fight, you can get an im­ age of the style, but the specifics are very dif­ ripple in the audience. The trick, ficult.” however, is not to hit it too hard on the head. I shot it three ways — good master, I almost never do. A long shot, medium shot and closemaster will be good for the first up — and used the medium shot. I half, then somebody will let it down didn't go to a close-up till I was and I know I have to go in for a sure the audiences knew who he close-up at that point. was, otherwise they would feel I On the other hand, it could be a was telling them who he was. story point or line of dialogue that Audiences get an added satisfaction I want to underline and the tool I from discovering him themselves, have is the cut to close-up. You can which makes them feel very clever. make a moment much more impor­ The other trick is to make the tant than it was played by the ac­ audience believe that Redford could tors, either by silent cuts before the anticipate that he was going to be line, or after it, which bracket the shot. W hat gives away this line in a way that will make it a very mailman, and I only figured this important moment. out just before shooting, are his I often do the same thing as other shoes — they are stuntman shoes directors and steal from takes that which look kind of off-beat on a don’t belong, just to make a par­ mailman. The second part was the fight ticular moment work. Occa­ sionally, after I say cut, somebody itself. This wasn’t easy, because we will do something very strange: had to stop Redford looking like a they might put their head in their super fighter, although he is vic­ hands, or get angry, etc. Now this torious. can be a good piece of film to have So, you have Redford on the when you are cutting the picture. defensive, the mailman on the

Cinema Papers, March-April — 323


— it has got to be that point of view. How to say it came totally from the screenwriter. What are you working on now?

They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?. “ It’s a human frailty that has to be dealt with, not just the aberration of one crazy guy” .

film. It is difficult to have a lot of characters, and a complicated plot, and tell it all in an hour and 46 min. There were a lot of things that suf­ fered as a result. ON W R IT E R S

Top: This Property is Condemned: scripted by Lrancis Lord Coppola, Lred Coe and Edith Sommer, from a one-act play by Tennessee Williams. Above: Atwood (Addison Powell), one of the lower order of villains, with Joe Turner (Robert Redford).

But isn’t that a difficulty, in that it is almost anti-dramatic? It depends on the level at which you do it. There is a certain point beyond which you can’t just banter to public taste. I had a similar problem on They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?, where the man who runs the dance hall is a promoter and obviously a villain. It would be very nice if the audience could leave that film saying, “Well, if it weren’t for the promoters of the world making money out of all that suffering, everything would be okay” . The fact is the people who go pay the money are just as much villains as the promoters. So an attempt was made to make Gig Young every bit as sympathetic as the people on the dance floor, and to make the audience feel just as guilty for watching that film as the people in the stands seemed to be for watching people suffer on the dance floor. It’s a human frailty that has to be dealt with, not just the aberration of one crazy guy. I understand now that it can be dram atically unsatisfactory if everything is too grey, but in Con­ dor I felt there was enough focus with the mailman and Atwood, who are just villains of the lower order. Are you satisfied with the way you crafted Atwood? I am never totally satisfied with anything I do. I think it works all right within certain limits, but he is the most cardboard character in the 324 — Cinema Papers, March-April

Let’s talk briefly about your relationship with writers, since none of your screenplays are by yourself. There is a saying in West San Diego Freeway that “writers should write and directors direct” . . . I am very sympathetic with that point of view, except it is impossible within the medium of film. Even if I absolutely worship a writer, there is no way I can do him justice if what he is writing doesn’t express my concept. The only way I can direct well is if the screenplay is an exten­ sion of what I think and feel at a given moment. It’s not a question of just repeating; it’s a question of telling. And in order to do that, I have to modify what the writer wrote. Film is not that verbal a medium necessarily, it uses many other tools to convey ideas. Words are only a part of it; so is the soundtrack, so is a succession of images. There are long, silent sec­ tions in Condor, particularly from the point where he kidnaps her*, when the story is literally told by the choice of images and their succession. I can’t defend the fact that writers feel raped by filmmakers. I don’t know what the answer is, but it’s not going to change. They can legislate all they want, but there is no way that someone is going to tell me I have to have some actress say

* “ Without a word being spoken, you see a helicopter landing in Washington, a guy get into a limousine, a jet plane land in Washington D.C., a guy get out whom you recognize, he then gets into a cab, a shot of a bridge, a shot inside a car with two people riding in it (the kidnapper and the kidnappee), a shot of a car riding up in an elevator and getting out in a strange deseerted warehouse, a man walking into what is obviously a cover and showing some identification, the car with the kid­ nap people pulling round a corner and riding up to a house” .

I have a couple of projects, but nothing definite for the next film. I have firm commitments with James Bond to do a nice short story of Lily Heilman’s from Pentimento, called “Julia” , and with Fox I have Tom Mix Died for Your Sins, which is a novel by Darrell Potterso who wrote The Last Detail and Cinderella Liberty. I have a Hemingway project in development at Universal, and John Vivian and John Dunn are working on an original screenplay for me that has to do with the Alaska pipe-line. There’s also a Peter Matherson book, a brilliant novel called Play in the Fields o f the Lord, which I am trying to find a writer for. I also bought a book recently ' written by Sterling Hayden, and an autobiographical piece called The Wandering Earth. But none of these are my next film.

a particular line. I just won’t do it if I don’t believe that’s what she should say at that point. It’s not that I don’t have any respect for the written word — Ido — but there is a definite art to screenwriting. There’s such a thing as a super screenplay and David Rayfield who worked on Condor, is a super screenplay writer. One of the comments that does keep You certainly have a lot of pro­ cropping up in reviews is how jects in the works . . . lite ra te and in te llig e n t the screenplay is — and it is. But he Yeah, but I’ll be happy if two of wasn’t the first writer, he was the them get to the screen. The mortali­ man brought in to rewrite the first ty rate of projects is particularly writer. high at the moment. Do you feel any qualms about Why? bringing in another writer? Yes, but I don’t usually hire the original writer. What happens is that I get a project with a writer already on it. I may like the project, but nqt think the screenplay is quite right. I then feel obligated to make one, two, three attempts, at least, with that writer since it’s his baby. I do feel qualms absolutely. I hate to fire people — it’s not an easy job — but under no circum­ stances would I not fire them; it’s too important. It’s one of the most unpleasant parts of being a direc­ tor. To what extent do you have a strong vision of the final product when you look at the first draft or novel? Strong vision is not the correct phrase for it. I have a feeling which has various levels of clarity. In cer­ tain sequences I see very clearly what should happen, in others I see that it’s not working and maybe know the general direction it should take. But when it’s unborn, I really depend on the writer to objectify it for me. For example, I said to David Rayfield that I didn’t want the assassin J o u b e rt to be the moustache-twirling victim that he was in the book and screenplay. Now I didn’t write the speech where Max turns around at the end, but I said to David th a t th e r e ’s something about an honest crook that’s better than a lying good guy

Because middle-ground films have all but been eliminated. Studios are making fewer films; they are going more for the homerun. They would rather make three $15 million films a year, than 25 $2 million films. That means you have less possibility of getting a project onto the screen, unless it’s filled with giant stars, or has some new gimmick to it. But isn’t there a great shortage of product? Yes, a terrific shortage — for ex­ actly that reason. As there are fewer films being made, they hold them on longer and longer. Audiences are getting to the point where they have seen everything. It must be rather frustrating for a director who is renowned for his ex­ perimentation? It is, because all the time you find material that fascinates you per­ sonally, but you damn well know that it doesn’t qualify as one o f those giant event films. ★ FILMOGRAPHY 1965 1966 1968 1969 1969 1972 1973 1974 1975

The Slender Thread This Property is Condemned The Scalphunters Castle Keep They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? Jeremiah Johnson The Way We Were The Yakuza Three Days of the Condor


A Look at the New Zealand Film Industry Howard Willis. A suitable beginning, or rather a convenient one, was the Arts Conference ’70. It was then, recommended that a New Zealand Screen Organization be established and charged with the administration of the country’s public film utilities, the implementation of film awards, a New Zealand Screen Finance Corporation and a N ational Film T heatre. T rad itio n al recommendations relating to fostering aesthetic appreciation of film via educational institutions were also recorded. The conference having then placed its order for a film industry, left it to the Queen Elizabeth II Arts Council to come up with the design. That august body responded in the only way it could (considering its own chronic poverty) by setting up a special committee to study the matter. During the latter part of 1972, John Reid presented to this committee a background paper entitled “Some aspects of film production in New Zealand” . This well-researched work adequately profiled the problems restricting in­ digenous production and distribution, and posed a few suggestions for raising money for film production. The Arts Council Special Committee then became the Film Industry Working Party to study the Reid Report and use it as a basis in formulating definite recommendations. In late 1974 the working party report saw daylight. Compared with the competence of the Reid Report it was an effete document. At the time they pleaded that the changes occurring in broadcasting and the Cinematograph Films Act made the whole area of discussion uncertain, so only a statement of policy was possible. They recommended an Interim Motion Picture Coun­ cil under the guidance of the Department of Trade and Industry to find ways of facilitating their other recommendation that the state should support a film industry. Except for label changes to the body responsi­ ble for the establishment and administration of

the machinery of a local industry, nothing much had been achieved since 1970. Even the questions of what form this body should take and exactly how it might assist local production were still vague. In his report, John Reid had rightly pointed out that “if sums of official money are to be spent on the financing of film projects, and some guarantee that this money be spent wisely is demanded, then a careful and ex­ haustive examination will have to be undertaken with a view to obtaining the co-operation of ex­ hibitors and distributors within New Zealand.” This and other important considerations were passed on to the Trade and Industry Department. After a bit of discussion, revolving around “the film industry” , in the press and on television, the report plummeted from public view. To the Department of Trade and Industry went a copy, where presumably it has followed some mysterious path of progress. So far nothing has emerged, although there have been rumors that the Department and the Arts Council are preparing another report. Just what it will say remains to be seen. What it will achieve can only be guessed. More than discus­ sion papers are needed now; needed are clear viable propositions, or at least a body with the resources to formulate such proposals and the power to carry them to people capable of in­ itiating them. So much has happened since 1970, that a solid new drive is required. For starters, there has been a new television broadcasting structure since April 1, 1975. The two earlier reports fre­ quently pointed at European national subsidy schemes — schemes since modified to EEC directives. Legislation is being drafted to crack the big exhibition/distribution cartels, and even censorship took a step forwards with the passing, uncut, of Lenny. Despite changes in circumstances, and the resultant need to gather more evidence and

argument, one thing remains constant — the New Zealand film industry has been starved of opportunity. To get anywhere in this morass we must address ourselves to this question: can a country of three million people, with about 10 million annual cinema attendances, support, need or even want indigenous feature film production? Discussion of need inevitably gets bogged down in a utilitarianism vs national identity vs “really wants” argument. Let us just say that need may be indicated by the persistent disquiet felt by many over the foreign dominance of our cinema and television screens, and the periodic attempts by our existing smaller films industry (television documentaries, dramas, commer­ cials) to move up to features. The question of support is more complex. How do we raise the money and how do we spend it? How must we restructure existing facilities and organizations to encourage growth? To call upon government participation in production is not to ask for anything new. The two major producers of screen material in New Zealand are government created organizations — namely (a) the National Film Unit and (b) the television corporations. Independent production has been unnecessarily debilitated by the monopolistic activities of these organizations. (a ) TH E N A T IO N A L FILM U N IT The National Film Unit, as such, came into existence in 1941. It operated under the Prime Minister’s Department until 1950 when it passed to the Department of Tourism and Publicity — where it has remained. In Wellington, the Unit operates the principle laboratory in the country, processing both 16mm and 35mm. In 1972 it put through 5 million ft of film, of which approx­ imately 2 million ft was for television. The pre­ sent staff is about 130, with an annual producCinema Papers, March-April — 325


tion of 100 thousand-ft reels; two thirds of which are co n tracted directly by governm ent departments, and the rest being house produc­ tions. John Reid had difficulty in ascertaining the financial workings of the unit, but he put the an­ nual vote from Tourism and Publicity between $750,000 and $800,000. This presumably covers operating costs and goes towards the 30 or so house productions. The auxiliary services of the Unit appear to bring in something like $150,000 per annum from television and at least $3 million from independent producers. If these figures are anywhere near correct, the Unit is getting quite a large sum each year from the tax­ payer to enable it to engage in its own activities. Because there is a ban on government departments contracting film production work to anyone other than the Unit, the Unit has an assured work load while other production houses must ignore an important area of film activity. Reid concluded: “The control by the civil service of this agency of filmmaking, and the public resources of film production have so far proved an ineffective method of ensuring that those citizens who are the most capable are in fact be­ ing given the chance to do the work.” Roger Donaldsen’s The Woman at the Store. Left: Nicky Sanderson and Anne Flannery. Below: Jeremy Stevens, , Ilona Rogers and Ian Mune.




Shooting Lawful Excuse, another of the short story series, inside Mt Edon prison, Auckland. Ian Mune, Craig McLeod (sound), Ian Beavis, Roger Donaldsen (director), John Earnshaw, Ron Payne (lead), Pete Mardell and Graeme Cowley.

The Kerridge-Odeon chain, part owned by Rank, exhibit the Unit’s 35mm productions, most of which run about 25 minutes. These films have never tackled any issue more controversial than water pollution or unplanned land development. Occasionally, one that is par­ ticularly well produced will win an award at some obscure film festival — but they are hardly world shakers. The Unit management and apologists would claim, naturally enough, that is not their job. While they have such a stranglehold on facilities and contracts, it’s not going to be anyone else’s job either. Something has to be done about the Unit. As a laboratory it has been responsible for some dreadful processing, and many producers now prefer to send material to Australia. It is also ex: tremely slow and limited in its capabilities. There have been suggestions that the Unit’s profits be put back into independent production. It would seem a better idea to use this money to build a decent laboratory once and for all. For some time it’s been muttered that this will happen, and although it doesn’t resolve the fundamental problem of the Unit’s role, it is a step which has to be taken. The releasing of contracts to independent producers would also go some way to improving things. When the Unit is fully booked it does oc­ casionally pass on a few jobs. However this prac­ tice is because of necessity, rather than ad­ ministrative design, and there is, therefore, no guarantee of continuation. To ensure a con­ tinuous share of this work, a redefining of the Unit’s role in relation to the private sector is necessary. A directive such as this would have to come from government, and requires a reappraisal of state involvement in film produc­ tion. Does the state want only bland informationals, or can it see itself as the promoter of filmmaking as a more involved social activity? Right now it seems content with bland informationals; indeed it’s a national pastime to jump to the defence of the New Zealand National Film Unit.

change since the Reid Report. Universally, like it or not, television has come to play an in­ creasingly important role in film production. New Zealand is no exception; in fact it is true to say that the crumbs from the television till have kept the local film industry teetering on the edge of solvency. Television began in New Zealand in 1961 and was run by a public service body until April 1, 1975. The New Zealand Broadcasting Corpora­ tion operated two national radio stations and a variety of local stations. Its television service was built from four regional channels into one national channel operated from Wellington and linked by micro-wave. You watched the NZBC or you didn’t watch television. In radio; the monopoly was broken in 1970 when Radio Hauraki, a pirate station, was finally given a licence and came ashore in Auckland. Today, eight of the 33 regional stations are private com­ mercial radio. Television remained the domain of the NZBC until the Labour government came to power in November 1972 with one of its planks being a se­ cond channel. The previous Conservative government had already moved in this direction by allowing the Broadcasting Authority to call applications for running a second channel. The NZBC was naturally in with flags flying against a private concern that intended to run the channel on straight commercial lines. The private organization won the case only to go down when Labour won the election. Suddenly it was a whole new ball game. Radio became a separate operation under Radio New Zealand, the existing television channel became an independent corporation known as Television One, and another cor­ poration, Television Two, was set up to establish a second national channel operated from Auckland and Christchurch. The whole deal is overseen by a Broadcasting Council and financ­ ed by licence fees and advertising. All this came to pass in April 1975, though TV2 didn’t get on the air until June and then only in Auckland and Christchurch. It has since extended into other (b ) T E L E V IS IO N areas, including Wellington, and will take in The other area of state involvement in film 75% of the population by early 1976. The way this affects filmmakers becomes ap­ production, television, has undergone a basic

parent when we turn to the questions of programming and finance. The NZBC operated from a licence fee, supplementing this with advertising revenue from local radio stations and television, the latter being restricted to four nights a week and in general gravitating towards breaks between programs. In spite of serious limitations, this curious compromise between commercial and public service television seemed to work. Now, with the advent of TV 1 and TV2, the licence fee ($27.00 B&W, $45.00 color) doesn’t cover the same ground, so an extra night of advertising has been allowed on a temporary basis. It’s been temporary for a year now, and there are no visible signs of it being lifted. The accent has definitely changed from one of public service to that of two commercial channels com­ peting for advertising revenue. This affects programming. The amount of time for documentaries and serious drama — anything which requires an attention span of more than 10 minutes — has diminished, while the amount of money available for local produc­ tion is restricted. Of course, there’s local production and local production. The channels, as did the NZBC, see it as their right and privilege to “paint their own house” . TV1 has produced a feature length adaptation of The God Boy by New Zealand w riter Ian Cross. As yet unseen, this demonstrates that the “house production” drama team has money. The situation exists where the heads of television departments large­ ly determine the output of the film industry in' terms of the condition: “ You work under our supervision, or you don’t work” . Taking a week in October 1975, we find 40% of T V l’s content is local production, and of that 40%, 100% is house production. A break-down of that 40% — 2.9% drama, 3% religious, 18.5% sport, 14.7% children, 12.5% news, 20.8% enter­ tainment, 10% current affairs, and 17.6% infor­ mational—reveals another factor: drama is fill­ ed by one soap opera, informationals are filled by cooking, nailing, etc, and the local content is boosted by sending the outside broadcast boys to the races. Except for a two-hour program once a week on TV2, available only in the Waikato dis­ trict, programs for schools don’t exist. Again the pattern of the National Film Unit presents itself. Some $25 million is collected annually from licence fees and yet there seems to be no way of purposely directing any of this towards anyone other than a group of overworked television ex­ ecutives. The NZBC did have a program of com­ missioned documentaries, and in its last year $280,000 went to people outside the broad­ casting structure. In the first year of the new structure this policy evaporated. TV1 claims there will be money next year, but doesn’t know how much. TV2 needs every penny to expand its service to cover the country. Rates for programs produced locally on spec and offered to televi­ sion, are $1,800 an hour. Foreign material is purchased for as little as $700 an hour and this is what one has to compete with. There is nothing to stop anyone producing material here, nothing except that you will hardly be paid print costs, . and the high local content quotas on other English-speaking markets, makes sales there a matter of uncertainty. Consider also the absence of New Zealand in­ digenous content quotas or points systems. When the Adams Committee (the body which drew up the legislation for the new broadcasting structure) took stibmissions, many people stress­ ed the need for a quota and for some sort of quota within this fòt local material generated outside the television^.corporations. These re­ quests never became law, nor are there any restrictions on foreign advertisements, a situa­ tion particulary strange in a country with an un­ common predilection for import licences. Cinema Papers, March-April — 327

r e n o v a t io n s in e a r t h q u a k e h o t e l

The independent film producer, therefore, finds himself excluded from both areas of state involvement in filmmaking. You get the distinct feeling that he has nothing to contribute. Before I attempt to say anything constructive about this mess, there’s one relevant and unfor­ tunate development. Recently introduced into Parliament is a new Cinematograph Films Bill, which, among other things, will restructure the censorship authorities. This doesn’t mean that censorship will improve from its extreme puritanical position, for there is nothing in the Bill to ensure that it will: the censor’s decision­ making role is still tied to “public standards” . Another part of the Bill deals with the establish­ ment of a Film Industry Board, which sounds fine until one reads the small print. The Board will make recommendations to the Minister of The Shiner, one of Aardvark’s six television dramas based on New Zealand short stories. The location is Orewa, north of Auckland.

Internal Affairs on matters concerning the film industry. The board will have eight members — producers are explicitly excluded. At this point, I can hear people asking just what have independents done to deserve all this. Did someone long ago say something rude? Well no, they didn’t, but things might have been better if they had. The situation results simply irom massive public apathy under which the politicians have been able to bask and yawn to their hearts’ content. Generate public interest by pointing out the way in which the need can be done and you are half way there. So far this has not been achieved. The final report of the Film Industry Working Party came out and bluntly asked for a $300,000 fund, and it’s been a bad year to ask for anything. What needs to be done is for the film industry to point out the extent of state involvement, then ask for a rationalization of this to facilitate expansion into feature production. Reid’s opinion that distributors and exhibitors must be involved is correct. The two big cinema chains, both owned by foreign distributors (Kerridge-Odeon — 50% Rank; Amalgamated — almosttotally 20th Century Fox), are assured of seats on the new Film Industry Board. Distributors here are really just receivingstations; they have never been involved in sending anything abroad. Of course, one gets into problems immediately because it’s certainly not going to be in the interests of the foreign owners to encourage too much independence down here in the South Pacific. Quotas don’t solve the problems given the present state qf af­ fairs; it would be like watering a seed with a monsoon bucket. A tax on profits from foreign films, to be re-allocated for distributing local ones, may go some way. And you could give added points for sending a film abroad. Having brought distributors to attention, the next step would be to deal with exhibitors. One outstanding feature of the new Cinematograph Films Bill is the abolition of exhibitors’ licences after 1978. Until now, the two big chains have used the licensing laws to shut out competitors. A few independents in this area may give the local product a fairer go. The inducement to ex­ hibit local films could be strengthened by the re­ imposition of an entertainment tax of 10 cents a seat, refundable to the exhibitor of a local

product. Ten cents a seat is not asking much considering seat prices are at most $1.75. The working party report was right, as were the Reid report and the Arts Conference ’70 — there has to be a fund. Refundable Entertain­ ment Tax does two things — it raises money for production and offers incentive to release that production. The amount raised this way would be dependent on how much the entertainment tax is and how much is left with the exhibitor. Given that the annual production will always be a minority of the total exhibition, we needn’t worry about exhibitors taking the kitty. The figure of $300,000 referred to by the Arts Coun­ cil report was the film hire tax, presently syphoned off into the consolidated fund for road building or whatever. A figure of approximately three times this could be generated by an enter­ tainment tax, and we would need all of this to in­ stigate an aggressive production campaign. These suggestions don’t work unless the dis­ tribution side is sorted out. It may be possible to persuade distributors to put money up once a fund is going, but so far there has been no discus­ sion on just how the distributors are to be roped into co-operation. This job will not be done while film industry boards are being set up which are exclusively concerned with the trade side of the business. Without some co-operation in this area, all the money in the world generated for production will simply disappear without re­ juvenating itself. Proponents of the fund wave the example of Barry McKenzie around, gurgl­ ing over the fact that it made its money back, but forget the earlier experience of They’re a Weird Mob. Okay, given that something positive can be done with the distributors and exhibitors and a decent-sized fund got going, what next? Make films: sure, but how do you put the money where it’s needed? There are a number of ways to distribute money and they all boil down to the question of who gives to whom. Prizes and awards inevitably encourage the production of certain types of films and require a jury of integrity. However, a limited use of this system allows some money to pass to producers without repayment provisions. A regular chang­ ing of this jury and a limitation on the number and size of prizes, should ensure that- no par­ ticular type of film dominates the awards. The Film Fund can be used as a bank on which filmmakers can make overdrafts; then the problem of assessing the borrowers’ collateral (the chances of their film’s success) arises. This situation requires the stewardship of someone well aware of possibilities and potentials. Such a person or group of persons is required for any funding method. They would have to act as ex­ ecutive producers, weighing up not only a film’s commercial viability, but also its aesthetic merits. It is a difficult balance to decide upon, one which must be extremely sensitive to chang­ ing circumstances and needs. No formula is available other than common sense. In some cases, non-refundable grants can be made for all or part of production. In others, interest-bearing loans would be the right course; and yet again, the fund could go in on a profit-sharing deal. The more the alternatives, the greater the chances of effective action. The people running such a fund would naturally be issued with a sign saying something like — New Zealand Film Institute, Film Fund, Screen Organization—it doesn’t really matter. Under such a banner, and with financial resources, they can offer other forms of assistance, apply pressure to ensure suitable dis­ tribution arrangements, act as an overseas marketing agency, or make equipment available where needed, thus saving the present wasteful duplication. Continued on P.380.

328 — Cinema Papers, March-April

Soviet Cinema An Interview with Sergei Gerasimov By Susan Dermody. Sergei Gerasimov1 is a significant figure in Soviet film, both as a reasonably prolific director for the past 40 years and as a teacher of film direction and acting. His sway within Soviet film training has increased to the point where, as head of the department of directing and film-acting in the Cinematography Institute2 in Moscow, he is St Peter to the heaven of Soviet filmmaking. As he put it, there is no other way into the field at the professional level, although he spoke respectfully of the widespread “amateur” filmmaking that flourishes wherever institutions and factories have their own filmmaking facilities. I spoke to him with other teachers and students in an open discussion at the Northwestern University film school, when he visited Chicago in early May. Gerasimov has a monumentally Russian face and body, like a sudden landslide of Ural boulders (he was born in the Urals), and his clothes date from the height of Cold War fashions. He clowned, lectured and joked with us for two hours, and I have selected the most interesting things he had to say about the structure of the Soviet industry, the present state of Soviet film theory, and the critical reception in the Soviet Union of both Russian and foreign films. The informality of the situation, and Gerasimov’s habit of pouncing on his interpreter’s choice of wording just when intelligibility was imminent, meant that his remarks were friendly and impulsive, but unstructured and sometimes conflicting. Probably just the balance he intended. v. He began by describing the decision-making process by which film pro­ jects receive consideration for approval of funds. (Naturally, all filmmak­ ing is funded by the State). At the top of the structure is a commissioner who reports to the Soviet ministry; he is flanked by a sort of electoral college with 11 members (including Gerasimov); this is drawn from a larger body of representatives of each of the unions in the industry — in­ cluding writers, directors, cameramen, designers, actors, and critics. Each of the 27 studios throughout the State draws its annual budget according to approval from this hierarchical tribunal. Mosfilm is the largest, producing 40-45 large-scale features every year, but its largeness does not eclipse smaller, but significant, studios like the Gorky in Moscow, where Gerasimov has worked as a writer-director for about 20 years. (Gerasimov’s filmography reflects the particular orientation of this studio towards films about and for young people.) An artistic director is appointed for each studio by the “college” — his job is to acquire or com­ mission scenarios, prepare, discuss and defend projects proposed for the studio and submitted to the watchdog “college” . The state commissioner is a final court of appeal for any project. Each studio must also budget for printing and distribution of its product to the 150,000 theatres in the Soviet Union. This is complicated by the need for two editions of every film, one in the language of the republic in

which the studio is located, and one dubbed in Russian for national dis­ tribution. Further complications can arise as late as when the film is ready for dis­ tribution: for example, in the case of Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev (completed by Mosfilm in 1966, but released in 1972), Gerasimov explain­ ed that questions were raised by “historians and academics” as to the “ac­ curacy” of the Film’s portrayal of the Tartar rule in the period after 1380. The studio was asked to “correct” this aspect, and to show the Tartar rulers to be greatly weakened after this date. Tarkovsky eventually agreed. Gerasimov emphasized that he liked the film “ a great deal” . Salaries compare to those of professionals in other areas, like scientists or engineers. Gerasimov said that, like other long-established directors, he draws a salary of about 8,000 roubles per film, and in addition receives (for his studio) 8,000 roubles for every 1,000 rentals of his film. He was determined to make the Figures explicit, he said, in order to make the point clear that the “imbalances” of the American system do not exist in the Soviet Union. Before taking questions, Gerasimov also described the film school and its courses. The Institute has dominated Soviet film training since its es­ tablishment in 1922 during post-war reconstruction, when Eisenstein, Dovzhenko and Pudovkin were listed among its students. Its departments include directing and acting, writing, design, “economic management” , criticism and history. Students enrol for 4Vi years, and learn within “master-class” situations, acting as staff on the production of films by the major directors who head different departments. Throughout the course they are involved in the making of three “small” and one “almost fulllength” film. Student selection is tough. Anyone can apply and many applicants come after already completing higher education. For example, Gerasimov’s last graduating class had a doctor, a cyberneticist and a psychologist among the students. Students are normally 22 or 23 years old, at ad­ mission, and apply from all over the Soviet Union, as well as from other countries. (No Americans at present, but “why not?”, Gerasimov demanded, in English.) Ten students are selected at each five-yearly intake (from about 500 applicants) for the directing master-class, and seven or so last the 4'/i years distance. For acting classes, the competition is even more stiff — 15 selected, 1500 apply. The head of each department has final say in the selection process, which makes Gerasimov’s position, as head of the direction and acting department, one of considerable influence upon the nature and style of Soviet film as it emerges from his graduating students. From this point, Gerasimov invited questions. The questions are reproduced in full, but Gerasimov’s answers can only be paraphrased after the fact of the interpreter.

The d irecto r, and not the To what extent is there an adherence between members of producer (whose role is taken by working groups — say a director, the “state”) has creative control in cinematographer, and certain ac­ this area. The director is usually the tors — over more than one film. Are initiator of a filrrTidea, in fact he is groups assigned, or can a writer, for with few exceptions a writer as well example, approach a particular as a d i r e c t o r . F o r m e, cinem atography begins with director with a script idea?

literature. The composition of the script is the most interesting stage of the process, the film imagined in its most ideal form. Then the work begins. Here you can’t get what you want, there you lose out again . . . Where the director is not the writer, he may seek out a particular

author, or a novelist may come to him proposing a film, or the artistic “college” may even bring together a writer, a director, and a good idea. The director has com plete freedom in selecting his crew — he naturally wants the best people Cinema Papers, March-April — 329


Montage from Gerasimovâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Quiet Flows the Don (1958).



available — and at this stage terri­ I could give a lecture in reply to ble arguments may break out this, and I’d love to, but instead I’ll between people who are at other recount a conversation I once times very good friends . . . overheard between Dziga Vertov Then, of course, recent students and Esther Shub. Vertov unearthed are always coming up, diploma in an incident that had occurred in a hand, with someone saying, “this little-known, little-visited town in one will go a long way”, and you Georgia, accessible only by steep saying, “Oh God, you said that last and dangerous mountain passes. time!” But, you give them a chance, Georgia is the country of legends, and turn your face away. and stories; the earliest kind of life­ style is still preserved there. Vertov Does film teaching at present still heard about the incredible effort place an emphasis on formulas taken by the townspeople to get a derived from theatre, as Eisenstein’s grand piano into their mountain theory of film practice encouraged? kingdom. This struck Vertov as a miracle of the stubborn desire of Eisenstein has been the establish­ people to partake of the fruits of ed authority in Soviet film, and civilization. Esther Shub im­ always will be, in some areas. But mediately said: “We must buy a se­ there are some areas where Eisens­ cond piano so that we can film tein — because he was a human be­ them dragging it up to the town” . ing — changed his mind as time Vertov exploded: “ I expected that went by. When he made Strike he from you. That’s the whole shame was an ‘old’ man of 24 years. As a of your approach. Documentary member of the FEX group (which cinematography must be dedicated Gerasimov insisted on calling the to that second of reality, and only Leningrad School for Eccentrics) that second. These sets, this he was bent on breaking all the staging, it’s impossible, it’s not traditions. If he could have seen real] . . .” Ivan at the time of making Strike, Is there still the great interest in he would have said: “That’s not me!” Everything changes, even for theory that there was in the twen­ Eisenstein, and so we can see com­ ties? plete turn-abouts in his theory — such as the idea of staging “attrac­ The number of people who want tions” which gave way to other to be spectacular theoreticians is ideas. But Eisenstein is still the larger than the number who number one director. manage to be.

How much c r i t i c a l and theoretical work are production students encouraged to undertake? It is understood that there is a dialectical relationship between theory and practice, although prac­ tice typically runs ahead of theory. The twenties was the exception, a tabula rasa. Then theory was oblig­ ed to run ahead. Now it is propor­ tionately more difficult to do something completely new. Even in pornography. Godard is perhaps in­ teresting — criticism and theorizing preceding action — but you find similar attitudes in Ford, Chaplin and Dovzhenko. Do students hold screenings of the films of other countries? No “major film” is unavailable to them, from any country. Perhaps the films they have least contact with are American films, because there are no “exchange funds” for

Are the questions raised by Ver­ tov concerning the bond between form and content still of interest?

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films between America and the Soviet Union, as there are between the Soviets and most other countries. It’s a great pity, and it’s our job to change this. Are films ever excluded on ideological grounds, despite the fact of possible technical interest? Except for films that launch an outright anti-Soviet attack (and I find it hard to think of an example), no, this doesn’t happen. We can en­ joy even people you might expect us to find “extremists” — Kubrick, Coppola, Kramer; even though they are not on the friendliest relations with our country. What about Godard and his Maoist, anti-Soviet stand? Well, I’ve seen Godard. Of course Godard has been lately somewhat confused, somewhat complex, for us and for France, and America. He’s very talented, but so mixed up — he has kosher in his brains. There’s not enough time for us to decipher him. The students are excited by Fellini, Kurosawa (who recently directed a film in the Soviet Union), by Antonioni — although they’ve gone cold on his recent films. But there are very good conversations after screening such films. Continued on P.373

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Our Friends the Hayseeds. (1917) Direction/Script, Beau­ mont Smith. Photography, H. Krischock. Actors: Roy Redgrave, Margaret Gordon, Walter Cornock, H. H. Wallace, Vera Spaull, Tom Cannam, Cecil Haines, Jack Radford, Peter Ward, Plumpton Wilson, Percy MacKay, Nan Taylor, Pearl Helmrich, Crosbie Ward, Fred Carlton, Olga Agnew, Gerald Kay Souper, Esther Mitchell, Tom Tilton (?). 5000 ft. Distribution, Beaumont Smith. Released, Syd. Waddington 12/3/17. The Hayseeds Come To Town (1917) Direction/Script, Beaumont Smith. Photography, H. Krischock (?) Actors: Tal Ordell. Fred McDonald, Harry McDonna, H. H. Wallace, Vera Spaull, Cecil Haines, Jack Lennon, Mattie Ive, Gladys Leigh, Connie Metters, Beaumont Smith. 4000 ft (?) Distributor, Beaumont Smith. Released, Syd. Waddington’s Globe and Majestic 9/7/17. The Hayseeds’ Backblocks Show. (1917) Direction/Script, Beaumont Smith. Photography, Bert Segerberg. Actors: Agnes Dobson (?), Collet Dobson (?) 4-5 reels Distributor, Beaumont Smith. Released, Syd. Lyric and Grand. 5/11/17. The Hayseeds’ Melbourne Cup. (1917) Direction/Script, Beaumont Smith. Photography, Bert Segerberg. Actors: Tal Ordell, Fred McDonald, Mattie Ive, Frank Cullenane, Driscoll (jockey), Guy Hastings (?), Harry McDonagh (?), Ethel Grist (?). 4 reels. Distributor, Beaumont Smith and, later, Kookaburra Films. Released, Melb. Star. 28/1/18. Satan In Sydney. (1918) Director/Editing/Script, Beaumont Smith. Photography, Bert Segerberg. Actors: Elsie Prince, George Edwards, Charles Villiers, Zo.e Angus, Ruth Wainwright, Gladys Leigh, Percy Walshe, Eilien Dawn, Edward Jenner, D. Dalziel, Gerald Harcourt. 5-6 reels. Distributors, Beaumont Smith; Enterprise Film Exchange. Significance: temporarily banned because it showed Sydney’s Chinese population in a poor light. Released, Syd. Lyric 15/7/18. Barry Butts In. (1919). Direction/Script, Beaumont Smith. Actors: Barry Lupino, Agnes Dobson. Feature length. Distributor, Beaumont Smith. Released, Brisbane Pavilion, 9/8/19. (?) Desert Gold. (1919) Direction/Script, Beaumont Smith. Production Company, E. J. Carroll. Photography, Lacey Percival (?) Actors: Bruce Rowe, Marie Ney, Gerald Har­ court, John Cosgrove, Gilbert Emery, Desert Gold (the horse). 6 reels. Distributor, E. J. Carroll through Union Theatres. Released, Syd. Globe —& Lyric, 22/9/19. The Man From Snowy River. (1920) Direction/Script, Beau­ mont Smith. Assistant director, John Wells. Photography, Lacey Percival and Alf Burne. Actors: Cyril Mackay, Stella Southern, Tal Ordell, John Cosgrove, Robert McKinnon, John Faulkner, Nan Taylor, Charles Beetham, Dunstan Webb, Jim Coleman, Con Berthal, Charles Villiers (?), Lucy Marcelle (?), Rhy Darley (?), Gwen Burroughs (?), Harry McDonagh (?). 6 reels. Distributor, Beaumont Smith. Released, Brisbane, West’s Olympia 28/8/20. Opposite: The only remaining photograph of Beaumont Smith’s 1924 feature, Joe.

The Betrayer (A Maid in Maoriland, Neath the Southern Cross, Our Bit o’ the World) (1921). Production Company, Beaumont Smith Films. Direction/Script, Beaumont Smith. Photography, Lacey Percival. Actors: Cyril MacKay, Stella Southern, Bernice Vere, Marie D’Alton, John Cosgrove, with Maori extras. Feature length. Distributor, Beaumont Smith. Released, Melb. Hoyts. 19/3/21. While the Billy Boils. (1921) Direction/Script, Beaumont Smith. Assistant director, Phil Walsh. Photography, Lacey Percival (?) Actors: Tal Ordell, John Cosgrove, Robert McKinnon, Ernest Hearns, Gilbert Warren Emery, J. P. O’Neill, Chas. Beetham, Alf. Scarlett, Elsie McCormack, Loma Lataur, Rita Aslin, May Renno, 6 reels. Distributor, Beaumont Smith & Union Theatres. Released, Syd. Grand & Lyric. 17/9/21. ' The Gentleman Bushranger. (1922) Direction/Script, Beau­ mont Smith. Photography, Lacey Percival (?) Actors: Dorothy McConville, John Cosgrove, Tal Ordell, Ernest Hearne, Nada Conrade, Monica Mack, Fred Phillips, Fred Twitchin, J. P. O’Neil, Robert McKinnon, Freddie Tauchert (?) 6 reels. Distributor, Beaumont Smith and Cecil Marks. Released, Syd. Crystal 4/3/22. Prehistoric Hayseeds. (1923) Direction/Script, Beaumont Smith. Photography, Lacey Percival. Actors: Hector St. Clair, Kathleen Mack, Lotus Thompson, Gordon Collingridge, J.P. O’Neil, Pinky Weatherley, Roy Wilson, Nina Dacre, Dunstan Webb, D. H. Souter, Gayfield Shaw, Percy Bennison, Arthur Sparrow, Wynne Davies. 5 reels. Distributor, Beaumont Smith. Released, Syd. Globe 24/11/23. Townies and Hayseeds. (1923) Direction/Script, Beaumont Smith. Photography, Arthur Higgins. Actors: Lotus Thomp­ son, George Edwards, Ada St. Clare, J. P. O’Neil, Pinky Weatherley, W. J. Newman, Gordon Collingridge, Harold Parkes. 5 reels. Distributor, Beaumont Smith and Union Theatres. Released, Syd. Lyceum and Lyric 7/7/23. The Digger Earl. (1924) Production Company, Beaumont Smith Production. Direction/Script, Beaumont Smith. Photography, Lacey Percival. Actors: Arthur Tauchert, Lotus Thompson, Heather Jones, Gordon Collingridge, Doric Gilham, Robert Purdie, Reg Wykeham, Dunstan Webb, J. P. O’Neil, M. Reid. Feature length. Distributor, Union Theatres. Released: Syd. Lyceum and Lyric Wintergarden 12/4/24. Hullo Marmaduke (1924) Produced/Directed, Beaumont Smith. Actors: Claude Dampier. Jimmy Taylor, Constance Graham, Mayne Linton, Fernande Butler, Grafton Williams, Lucille Lysle. Feature length. Released, Syd. Lyceum and Lyric 15/11/24.


Joe. (1924) Produced/Directed (?)/Script, Beaumont Smith. P h o t o g r a p h y , L acey P e r c i v a l . A c t o r s : A r t h u r Tauchert, Marie Lorraine, Gordon Collingridge, Fernande Butler, Constance Graham, Hal Scott, Dunstan Webb. Feature length. Distributor, Beaumont Smith Films. Released, Syd. Lyric and Lyceum 23/8/24. The Adventures of Algy. (1925) Produced/Directed, Beau­ mont Smith. Actors: Claude Dampier, Bathie Stuart, Lester Brown, J. P. O’Neill, Billy Carlyle, Eric Harrison. Feature length. Released, Syd. Lyceum and Lyric 20/6/25. The Hayseeds. (1933) Produced/Directed/Script, Beaumont Smith. Associate director, Raymond Longford. Assistant director, Jack Gibbs. Photography, Tasman Higgins. Recording Engineer, Clive Cross. Music, Alf Lawrence, Frank Chappie. Ballets, Richard White. Editor, Frank Cof­ fey. A.D., James Coleman. Actors: Cecil Kellaway (Dad Hayseed), Katie Towers (Mum Hayseed), Tal Ordell (Joe), Phyllis Steadman (Polly), Stan Tolhurst (Sam), Bryan Kellaway (Billy), Molly Raynor (Pansy Regan), Kenneth Brompton (Mr Townleigh), Leal Douglas (Mrs Townleigh) Shirley Dale (Mary Townleigh), John Morre (Henry Westcott), Arthur Clarke (John Manners), Vincent Pantin (Lord Morninston), J. C. Williamson chorus (Singing hikers). Ballet (the Richard White Girls), Jimmy Coates and his orchestra. Feature length. Distributor, J. C. Williamson Pic­ tures. Released, Syd. Civic 9/12/33. Splendid Fellows. (1934) Direction/Script, Beaumont Smith. Assistant director, Raymond Longford. Dialogue director, Kenneth Brampton. Photography, George Malcolm. Sound, Roy Blanche. Technical director, Victoria Bindley. Editor, Frank Coffey. Assistant director, Les Davis. Production assistant, J. Murray Gibbes. Actors: Frank Leighton, Leo Franklyn, Frank Bradley, Eric Coleman, Isabelle Mahon, Peggy Ross, William Stewart, Andrew Higginson, Madge Aubrey, Charles Zoli, Sir Charles Kingsford Smith. Feature length. Distributor, J. C. Williamson Pictures. Released, - Syd. State. 2/5/34.

Compiled by Ross Cooper.

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Cinema Papers, March-April — 333

PIER PAOLO PASOLIN11922-1975 B y N o e l P u rd on

When I wrote in Cinema Papers last July on Pasolini’s sexuality and politics, I little realized that within three months he would be dead; murdered precisely because of those qualities. For some years he had been target for the lunatic, fascist fringe (“Write PPP for Piss Pot Pasolini on the houses of all Jews, communists and perverts. Heil Hitler! Viva Mussolini!”). The last time I saw him he spoke with despair about the growth of neo-fascism in Italy. That his murder by Giuseppe Pelosi had part of its origin in fear and hatred of homosexuality is ob­ vious. But the circumstances of his death, as several of his friends have noted, are too “ Pasolinian” : they come straight from Accattone or Una Vita Violenta. They seem too easily con­ fected and organized by someone who knew his public reputation, but not the personality of the man himself. For Pasolini was the most gentle of people, inward to the point of dark glasses and neurosis. Pelosi’s account of his pick-up behavior reads like a script prepared by someone else, and com­ parisons with the case of Feltrinelli, the left-wing publisher “found dead” beside explosives and pylons outside Milan, are inevitable and instruc­ tive.* However the occasion here is rather to pay tribute to his artistic skill, to acknowledge criticisms, and to look to the cinematic future from the point he achieved. Like the pronouncements of all people who create many different worlds, some aspects of Pasolini were contradictory: his defence of the police in ’68 in a famous poem which, not sur­ prisingly, earned him catcalls at the university; his reactionary views on divorce and abortion; his disapproval of la droga and cappelloni, or long hairs (even when he was talking to them!); his austerity about eating and drinking. Against this should go his genuinely utopian, revolutionary spirit; his generous praise of Ber* The details and contradictions in the police inquiry, Pelosi’s trial and re-trial, all completely unreported in this country, deserve, at a later stage, an article in themselves.

334 — Cinema Papers, March-April

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The following is a translation of the poster, above, which adorned the walls of Rome. ^ The people o f Rome express their grief and dismay at the tragic and violent death o f PIER PAOLO P ASO LIN I one o f the most significant artists and scholars in Italy today, animated by an intense social awareness he gave a human voice and face to certain experiences from the life and from the struggle fo r emancipation o f the poorest and most oppressed sections o f the city. The communists o f Rome remember P.P.P. as a true friend, a companion in so many political and cultural battles, a com­ mitted and genuine speaker fo r the workers’ cause and the democratic nibvement in the great struggle to build a new society, where there will be more freedom, more compassion, more order, more justice. The funeral procession will leave from the "Casa della Cul­ tura" at 5 p.m. on Wednesday the 5th o f November. (Largo Arenula). —

The three words scrawled across the poster are: Blasphemer, Cuckold and Pansy, and were written by an outraged Jesuit priest. He was later arrested.

tolucci, Moravia and Bassani; his sponsorship of the Citti brothers; his avoidance of silly small talk; his unfailing courtesy and simplicity; and the transcendent greatness of his work. Pasolini’s output was prolific. It included novels, collections of poetry, short stories, es­ says, historical and political writings, verse drama, translations, journalism and cinematic theory. With Moravia he was editor of the ex­ cellent review Nuovi Argumenti. His work for the cinema, which formed the core of his creativity, is summarized below: SCRIPTS: Between 1954 and 1975 he collaborated on more than 15 scripts and Films taken from his novels. The most important of these are: La Donna del Fiume (1954) dir. Soldati; Le Notti di Cabiria (1956) dir. Fellini; La Notte Brava (1959) dir. Bolognini (from Ragazzi di Vita); La Giornata Balorda (1960) dir. Bolognini (from Moravia); Una Vita Violenta (1962) dir. Heusch and Rondi; La Com­ mare Secca (1962) dir. Bertolucci; Bawdy Tales (1974) dir. Citti. PERFORMANCE: He appeared as an actor in II Gobbo and Requiescant, both directed by Lizzani, and in his own Edipo, (in all three roles, as a priest); later in Decameron and Canterbury Tales, as an artist. DIRECTION: Accattone (1961); Mamma Roma (1962); La Ricotta 62, episode in Rogopag: La Rabbia (1963); Sopraluoghi (1963­ 64); Comizi d’Amore (1964-65); Il Vangelo Secondo Matteo (1964); Uccellacci a Uccellini (1966) ; La Terra Vista dalla Luna (1966) ep. in Le Streghe; Edipo Re (1967); Il Fiore di Campo (1967) ep. Amore e Rabbia; Che Cosa Sono le Nuvola 68, ep. in Capriccio allTtaliana (1968); Teorema (1968); Porcile (1969); Medea (1970); Il Decamorone (1971); I Racconti di Canterbury (1972); Il Fiore della Mille e una Notte (1973); Salo e le Centoventi Giornate di Sodoma (1975). Among ideas for Films which he abandoned were several on the lives of saints (St. Paul and

Bawdy Tales, a depressing collection of existential terrors. Directed by Sergio Citti from a screenplay by Pasolini.

St. Francis), a film on Socrates, and one on the plight of the Third World. At the time of his murder he was planning to shoot a new film, Ta Kai Ta, with the famous Neapolitan actor, Eduardo De Filippo, in which one of the Scripted scenes had a man being mar­ tyred in a public square. Salo, his last film, almost never saw the projection room — first stolen from the labs in Rome, then, when reconstructed, banned. Bertolucci, Antonioni, Liliana Cavanni and Bellocchio instantly clamored for its release. Critics (as distinct from filmmakers) who have seen Salo in Paris have reacted with distaste and bewilderment. How could Pasolini decide to visualize the scabrous words of a man whose name in western civilization has replaced that of Machiavelli as a synonym of the devil? Was it not bizarre, obsessive and self-destructive of him to choose such a subject? We need to ask another question: was he un­ aware of what it is like to be tortured, or, for that matter, to desire to torture? This question comes up in the light of his several arrests and prosecutions for blasphemy and indecency; his fight to get his friend Ninetto out of the clutches of the military; his constant persecution by the censor and the Church; and his attempt to find sexual and affectionate pleasure in a hostile society. He said in London once: “ My ideal society is anarchic. You can’t have ideas so violently against society as mine and expect to be left alone.” Salo is not set in de Sade’s pre-republican France and Switzerland, for by the same process of analogy that made Jerusalem of Sicily in the Gospel, Sade’s ideas are given expression in the Nazified alpine Italy of World War II. Four politically powerful men, (modern, civil, religious and educational counterparts of Sade’s characters) have secluded themselves with four storytellers, here decayed beldames of the thir­ ties, and a sexually chosen collection of adoles­ cent boys and girls. What follows is faithful both to Sade’s plan of ever-increasing savagery and anarchy, and to Pasolini’s life-long attempt to make sense of the food/excrement, sex/thought, love/power confusions which have haunted him. Certainly after Canterbury Tales, his own scripts were becoming blacker. The Bawdy Tales he wrote for Citti, for example, are as depressing a collection of existential terrors as you could find in any nightmare, in spite of the attempt to

The Decameron.

Pasolini: “All my works are concerned with human beings in their dealings with the sacred, with the presence of the sacred in everyday life.” Theorem.

set them in the popular ottocento world of Belli and the Trastevere. However, without Pasolini’s visual genius, they remain untransformed. Besides Salo, the most significant events of his last year were the columns in Corriere della Sera; and the Filmcritica article identifying death as the central aesthetic and emotional point in film — he had been watching the super8 footage of Kennedy’s assassination. (An­ tonioni’s first impulse on arriving at Pasolini’s murder-scene in Ostia was to film it, thus fulfill­ ing the last theory of his colleague.) The Corriere articles were influential and con­ troversial. They urged the disbanding of schools, and the dissolution of television. His repeated declaration in such a newspaper of his own homosexuality, his articles on the new ferocity of urban crime in Rome, and his rapprochement with the Italian Communist Party, all earned

him enemies throughout the Italian Right and Centre. Never accepted by the established Roman in­ telligentsia, Pasolini was mourned by the or­ dinary people of Rome, the Communist Party, and the Italian gay organization FUORI (“out­ side”) in a massive street demonstration at his funeral. I join them in mourning this maker of visions, this courageous fighter. Let the good Christians who admire The Gospel and Theorem, the straight aesthetes who get away on Medea, the Marxists who are mov­ ed to tears by Accattone, the Italophiles who nod eagerly at the mere mention of his name, never forget that they are watching the works of a murdered poofter. Let them have his pain, his genius and his gayness waved in their faces like a flag. ★ Cinema Papers, March-April — 335

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120 Days of Sodom

“ Unfortunately people do not realize how essential these descriptions are for the un­ derstanding of the soul’s development; our vast ignorance of this science is simply due to the stupid circumspection and false modesty of those who write on the subject. Enchained by the most absurd fears they tell us of childish things known to every fool; *) and, not daring to lay a bold hand on the human heart, they likewise do not dare to reveal to us its gigantic aberrations.” * * La Nouvelle Justine, ou les Malheurs de la Vertu, suivie de I’histoire de Juilette, sa soeur. Marquis de Sade, 1797.

Pasolini’s Salo is based on Les Journees de Sodome, ou I'ecole du libertinage by Donatien-Alphonse-Francois, Marquis de Sade (1785). This 500 page, but only onequarter completed novel concerns the sex­ ual excesses of four prominent debauchees secluded in the remote Monastery of SainteMarie-de-Bois. These episodes of everincreasing anarchy have been seen by many as a prophecy of the French Revolution four years later. Pasolini, however, has set his film in the Nazified alpine Italy of the war years (1939-45).


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Simon (Graeme Blundell)

Kath (Jeanie Drynan)

Susan (Clare Binney)

M ike G iddens

David W illiamson’s “ Don’s Party” is probably the most famous Australian play since Ray Lawler’s “ Summer of the Seventeenth D oll” , and certainly one of the most acclaimed. It first surfaced at the Pram Factory in August 1971, but was later revised and re-opened at the Jane Street Theatre in June 1972. Set on October 25,1 9 6 9 , the play is a caustic description of an election night party, where all but two are Labor sup­ porters. That night was of particular importance because it looked as if Labor could return from 20 years on the opposi­ tion benches and form a government. And as the night progressed, hopes ran high. However, as the late returns came in, a swing against Labor became apparent — much as in 1974. So even though the Liberal-Country Party coalition was returned with its lowest ever post-war majority, for Labor sup­ porters the night was a bitter one. The most disturbing element of the play, however, is not the increasing doom of the night, but the tragic awareness one gets of how transient beliefs can be. If the guests are living in Lower Plenty now, it was not so long ago they were in Carlton; and if they voted Labor in 1969, there is no guarantee they would again. As Peter Nixon once said: “Today’s radicals are tomorrow’s conservatives. The change comes when a young man marries, has children and takes on responsibility” . “ Don’s Party” has been adapted for the screen by its author David Williamson, and for it producer Philip Adams and director Bruce Beresford have gathered- an extremely varied cast — from Pat Bishop, who played Kath in Sydney and London, to Graham Kennedy, who is acting in his first serious role. The entire film is being made on location in Sydney, and with a budget o f $275,000.

Jody (Veronica Lang)

M ike G iddens

Jenny (Pat Bishop)

Cooley (Harold Hopkins)

Cinema Papers, March-April — 339

PHIL ADAMS P ro d u c e r As well as being one o f the best-known spokesmen on What made you choose “Don’s Party”? Australian cinema, Philip Adams is also at the fore-front o f in­ dependent filmmaking, with his and David Robinson’s “Jack I didn’t choose it — it chose me. and Jill: A Postscript” , and John B. M urray’s “The Naked I was handling the mop-up on Barry McKenzie in Britain, the Bunyip” . Along with “ Stork” , many regard “The Bunyip” as U.S. and Canada, when I was the impetus behind the industry’s revival, and its independent approached by Jack Lee, who had release in hired theatrical venues, a major breakthrough. been trying to float the film for Gordon Glenn and Scott Murray interviewed Adams at his sometime. Melbourne office, where he spoke both o f “ D on’s Party” and Did he hold the rights? the industry in general. Yes. He’d been interested in Don’s Party since seeing the Syd­ ney production. At the time, in 1974, it seemed to me that comedies. were the only genre of film likely to redeem themselves financially in Aus­ tralia. After all, in so far as there’d been a history of successful films in this country, it was a history of comedy going back to the Senti­ mental Bloke, the Dad and Dave films, Stork and Bazza. Further­ more, I’d had bitter experiences trying to raise money for dramatic films, but I did know that our un­ imaginative Australian investors would respond to comedy. In fact, I’d received a lot of unsolicited phone calls from would-be in­ vestors who’d heard wild rumours a b o u t Barry M c K e n z i e ’s profitability. So I foresaw no problem in raising the $300,000 for Don’s Party. Unfortunately, things didn’t happen as quickly as I’d hoped. As you know, I was foundation chairman of the Film and TV Board, and a member of the Aus­ tralia Council, which was taking up at least 2 days a week. I was also spending quite a lot of time trying to raise money for other people’s films. So the project had to wait until I resigned 12 months later. But by then Australia was in the middle of a credit squeeze and my investors had lost much of their enthusiasm. While everyone I approached agreed to participate, most of them offered just a fraction of the sort of money they’d originally proposed. So instead of 340 — Cinema Papers, March-April

maker. I’ve already sold the film to television — to the 0/10 Network — with the promise that it will be cleared for transmission in about three years time. That may seem optimistic on my part, but the fact is that Australia now has the most liberal television censorship in the world. There’s no way a film like Don’s Party could ever be screened on American television, or, for that matter, the BBC. As a matter of fact, the BBC told me to bring Barry McKenzie back in 10 years time. Prior to that, they saw no possibility of screening it. There was talk of Cooley being played by Paul Hogan, wasn’t there?

Yes, I wanted him for the part very much. I’d also wanted him to play Curly in the original Barry McKenzie. When he was just down from the bridge, and before he’d assumed superstar status, I had a great admiration for his comic gifts, but he was very wary of the role. Finally, the rationalization for him refusing it was financial, but I suspect he was concerned over his Philip Adams in his waiting room at Monahan, Dayman Adams, Melbourne. ability to work with professional actors. getting a cheque for $50,000, I’d neighbour’s pool have been added, As well, I know that John Cor­ get one for $5,000. the screen play is close to the nell was worried that the film might Although somewhat dispirited, original play — except that the off­ have a bad effect on Hogan’s mass Jack Lee and I had a number of stage scenes, which are implied in audience. Mind you, he had some meetings with David Williamson the original, now take place on cause for conern — Barry McKen­ on the script and we went through a camera. zie hasn’t exactly helped Barry number of rewrites. First of all, we Crocker’s record sales. Little old There does seem to have been ladies won’t buy albums performed went through the inevitable exer­ cise of trying to “externalize” the some reworking of characters and fry young men who take their drama, of trying to escape the stage dialogue, however — especially with trousers off on television. set. But we found that it didn’t real­ Cooley. His opening ‘G’day cunt ly work — it was just tokenism. In features’ has been deleted, for ex­ There are quite a few surprises in any case, a drama like Don’s Party, ample . . . the casting . . . concerning a seething hot-bed of in­ terpersonal conflicts, requires a I think you’ll find that “cunt I hope so. First of all, we’ve in­ high degree of claustrophobia. It’s features” was back in the last draft, cluded Ray Barrett as Mai, even like a domestic argument — if you and I certainly gave no instructions though Barrett played Cooley in step outside into the garden the to bowdlerize it. However, it’s fair the London stage production. But issues seem less important. to say that a line like that could so he is, of course, far too old for the So, although a few additional enrage Mr Prowse as to jeopardise part, especially on a Panavision scenes involving voting on election TV sales, and they’re a major screen for which, Ray claims, he day and some skinny-dipping in the source of income for the local film­ has to fill in his face with spackle.


Anyway, we’ve re-written the part of Mai so that he is no longer an ex-student, but a university lec­ turer. You’ll always find one of them hanging around the younger students trying to con their birds. Then we’re using Graeme Blun­ dell against type — at his request. Graeme was so sick of playing appealing, Alvin-type parts that he asked to play Simon, the young Liberal who sticks out at the party like a sore toe. And Graham Kennedy, for whom I have a great admiration, is playing a drab, beaten-up, little sad-sack. It’s the very antithesis of the role he had, for example, in The Box, where he was milked for his public image. And although the critics will all have their pre-conception about Kennedy, he’s emerging as a very good, naturalistic actor — with just a hint of the grotesque, and that’s a p p ro p ria te given th a t the character has a penchant for photographing people in a sexual congress. As you know, at the last moment we had to replace Barry Crocker with John Hargreaves, who has the part of Don — and that’s in com­ plete contrast to his part in The Removalists. There, he was an in­ hibited young policeman — here he’s the full extrovert rat-bag. For Cooley, the part originally planned for Hogan, we’ve got Harold Hop­ kins. You might remember Hop­ kins playing Billy Hughes’ private secretary in Billy and Percy. He’s a damn good actor but he’s not the sort of guy you would readily associate with the part. He’s not as physical; he’s more intellectually complex. By casting people against type, we are hoping to get something ex­ tra from them in performance. Da­ vid and I have talked about the style of acting a great deal, and we both w anted it to be very naturalistic, almost Czechoslo­ vakian. At the same time I wanted the camera to be as mobile as possible, which is very difficult in a tight location. Nonetheless, I watched the shoot for a couple of days last week and was very pleas­ ed at the degree of mobility Bruce and Don were getting. Jack Lee finally pulled out of the film, didn’t he?

G ord on G lenn

Well, yes. It took such a long time to get it going, and Jack had family commitments in Europe. So, although Jack retained his equity in the project, we agreed to find another director. At first I wanted to use Ken Hannarn, who directed Sunday, but Hannarn was out of sympathy with the urban characters, preferring more rural archetypes. Hannarn found the dialogue too aggressive, too ugly. Obviously, the man’s a raving romantic. However, Bruce Beresford arriv­ ed back from Britain and respond­ ed to the project with his usual enthusiasm. We’d worked together Cinema Papers, March-Aprit— 341


very happily on Barry McKenzie and so I asked him to take the film on. At the same time, we were working on a number of other ideas for subsequent collaboration.

script was examined by a number of lofty personages from major studios, and they simply couldn’t believe the way Australians talk to each other. What they failed to realize was that while characters were calling each other “bastard” and “cunt features” , they were be­ ing affectionate; that underneath this scatological abuse, there is a great deal of camaraderie and warmth. It is very hard to explain to an American script consultant that “cunt hooks” is a term of endearment. I had the same problem with the American consultants to the South Australian Corporation, as they also took the view that Don’s Party was a piece of h o rre n d o u s | vulgarity. I remember David Wil2 liamson trying to explain what the ® play was all about, in the face of | their rather pious reactions, and getting very angry.

Was there any temptation to change the period of the film? Yes, we were going to re-set it at the last federal elections. That was the plan right until the eleventh hour, but then we realized that no Labor supporter in his right mind would have been throwing a party to celebrate Gough’s ‘certain’ vic­ tory. All of us knew that we were going to get trounced — it was just a matter of degree. So we returned to the original 1969 setting. The politicians referred to in the play are now somewhat forgotten. Did anyone conceive of introducing more familiar names?

“ We shot a scene with John Gorton the other day because I want to have ‘Introducing John Gorton’ in the titles” .

No, but we shot a scene with John Gorton the other day because I wanted to have “ Introducing John Gorton” in the titles. After all, without John we wouldn’t have had a local industry worth two bob. When we visited the set it seemed as if the film would have a more sub­ urban character than the play. It had less of a Carlton feeling . .. Well, David saw the play as be­ ing set in Lower Plenty, not Carlton, which is a new suburb for the upwardly mobile. So I think your perception of the play as Carltonian was rather subjective. As you know, we are filming on location in a New South Welsh ver­ sion of Lower Plenty, but the domestic details are identical — right down to the mandatory Brueghel print. Will you be distributing the film yourself? Yes. I,will be using the same system as with the first Bazza. This means I won’t be signing any long­ term contract for the distributors, which I regard as lunacy. I suspect that the situation with the Great MacArthy is that David Baker Probably signed a five-year conlUv -fh'Seven Keys. And after the film s failure in Melbourne, I would be very surprised if they haven’t lost interest. However, un­ less Seven Keys are willing to waive the contract, Dave will be unable to get his hands on it for a second try.

Casting against type: Graham Kennedy, as Mack, in his first serious role; and Ray Barrett as Mai. Barrett played Cooley in the London production.

there had been a rapid turnover in films. This accounts for the sudden vogue in revivals and for the readiness of Australian cinemas to handle local product. Moreover, my independents are people who like to have long runs. They work hard to make a film a success.

How will the film be released?

Most of the people involved are old friends from Barry McKenzie days. Having made money out of McKenzie they were willing to in­ vest in a new project. What about American dis­ tribution?

Who are these independents? First of all, many of the investors in Don’s PaTty are exhibitors. We have major exhibitors in NSW, Canberra, Perth and Victoria —which gives us the bulk of the market. Incidentally, exhibition has never been easier, because there is a severe product shortage in Aus­ tralia. As a result of color televi­ sion hitting cinema audiences, 342 — Cinema Papers, March-April

In Canberra it’s Darrell Killen, who owns some of the major cinemas and drive-ins. In Perth it’s the TVW group, the major televi­ sion station who have gone into ex­ hibition in partnership with MCA. In Sydney it’s MCA themselves, and in Victoria its Messrs Sharpe & Sellect, who’ve the Capitol, tne Bryson and the Century theatres.

I don’t like our chances, or anvj^dy else’s. My experience in Ne‘ ^."ork and Los Angeles, with Bar«^ "McKenzie, showed what a xenophobic lot the Americans are. They want films of, for and by Americans.' Even the features they finance in Britain are rarely releas­ ed in their domestic market. Moreover, Americans have a lot of trouble with Don’s Party. The

What is your role on the new film? Producer — not to be confused with production manager. I think that Australian filmmakers very often confuse those roles. As producer, it is my responsibility to package, to choose the director and principal cast, and to promote. I also think Australian producers fail to realize that their job is only just beginning when a film is finished. The nature of the publici­ ty is crucial, as is the selection of an outlet. Make the wrong decision and you court disaster. For ex­ ample, I was always opposed to the premiering of Sunday Too Far Away in suburban theatres. I know it’s given the film a long run, but that’s no guarantee of profitability. In fact, a long run is often quite useless to a producer — he can run 12 months without the production, as opposed to the cinema, earning anything at all. In my view, a film has to take a lot of money quickly c for the production to have any hope ®of getting into the black. Aus­ “ tralians have to learn a lot more I about these aspects of production, S otherwise their first film will often be their last. One of the problems with “Sun­ day Too Far Away” was that many distributors saw it and claimed that it wouldn’t make a penny. That’s reputedly why it ended up in the suburbs . . . Why on earth wouldn’t Sunday be successful? God knows it’s not a Wake in Fright, which challenged the audience too much. Sunday is a very nice, likeable film — in a sort of Lawsonian tradition. Obviously there is an advantage in tying things up at script stage, long before you’ve a final product. However, if distributors keep being pessimistic about the potential of films like “Sunday” and “Picnic”, then they are going to always play


safe and release films in cinemas like the Double Bay and Rivoli . . .

theories about pre-researching film ideas . . .

Exactly. However, with regard to Picnic, I always knew that it would be a roaring success. I did quite a bit of back-stage work with Pat Lovell in the early stages when the film establishment was doing its best to discourage her. C on­ versely, the second I saw The Great MacArthy, I warned David Baker that he had a major problem on his hands because of its idiosyncratic and complex nature. Also, we must remember that it is far, far more difficult to market an Australian film than it is to market an import. Overseas films are pre-sold before they get here and it’s simply a matter of the local distributor unpacking the publicity kit from Los Angeles. It requires very little work.

Yes. I am intrigued with the Tape system from England, which is a predictive technique based on the h isto ric perform ance of thousands of feature films. It was developed by a media expert in Bri­ tain from a statistical study of films made over a 20 year period and is now being used by a number of ma­ jor U. S. studios — and by one of our local television networks — in assessing possible projects. I don’t place too much faith in the notion, but I have been impressed by T a p e ’s re c o rd . C e rta in ly a producer needs all the help he can get in an industry that’s as high­ » risk as films. And I’d certainly like •g to see Tape augmenting the old I system of assessment in Australia, 1 wherein some embittered film critic 2 vents his spleen on this or that script. Some of the A FD C assessments I’ve seen over the years have been nothing short of scandalous — moralistic, malicious documents that should have been put in a shredder. Yet all too often they were the bases of funding decisions. Frankly, I’d take the Tape system a damn side more seriously than the opinions of local assessors who have negligible film experience. However, in the final analysis, it’s one’s own opinion that really matters, and one of the problems with the Australian film industry is that it is so small and incestuous. The level of jealousy is very high.

Have you ever thought about dis­ tributing other Australian films?

Director Bruce Beresford and Ray Barrett. Don’s Party is Beresford’s fourth feature.

Yes. In fact I put a proposal to the AFC that we form a sort of dis­ tribution co-operative, because, ob­ viously, the costs of doing it solo are significant. The staff I had to distribute Bazza could have easily handled two or three more films without an increase in overheads. And if you are distributing a single film such that the money isn’t ex­ actly rushing in, you have got the problem of paying salaries and sustaining yourself. Pat Lovell has made a similar observation. She believes that the AFC is too strict on producers in terms of what they are allowed to pay themselves. She says that unless producers have outside incomes, they just can’t keep going . . . Quite true. My fee from Don’s Party, after tax, will be around $3000—which isn’t a lot of money for 4 to 5 years work. So I couldn’t co n tem p late an involvem ent without having other sources of in­ come, which is why I think that an alliance between the John Lamonds, the Thornhills and the Bakers might be a good idea. We could pool information on deals, on con­ tracts, on marketing strategies. And we could save ourselves that 30% distribution fee into the bargain. In my experience, making a film is relatively easy, but finding an audience — that’s the problem.

And what’s next? Do you have any other films planned? g | ° | Don (John Hargreaves) in his dinner-suit, “just to embarrass everybody” .

Have you got the rights on “The Getting of Wisdom”? Yes, we’ve got an option. Elenor Whitcombe, who wrote the Seven Little Australians, is finalizing the first draft, and as soon as I have it I’ll be out knocking on the in­ vestors’ doors. Funnily enough, we planned it years before the success of Picnic. However, the broad similiarities (both films are set in girls’ schools) may be a two-edged sword: some will no doubt say the films are too similar, while others will be reassured by^Picnic’s success — as they reach for their cheque books.

Will “ Don’s Party’’ find an audience? I think so. As I said, it comes from the mainstream of Aus­ tralian comedy. At the same time, it’s a deeply emotional film and its political undercurrents have even more significance since the Decem­ ber coup d ’etat. However, I’ll cer­ tainly research the film carefully before release — just as I organized research on MacArthy and many other local features when I was with the Film Board. You have also, I believe, some

With Bruce, I hope to go straight into a production of Henry Handel Richardson’s The Getting of Wis­ dom. As well we are trying to finance a multi-million dollar epic, The Break, about the mass-Japanese escape from a prison camp in Cowra during World War II.

Is it going to be a big film? Certainly much bigger than Don’s Party in terms of budget. I think we’ll need $350,000-$400,000.

Don with Cooley’s pornographic object, Susan (Clare Binney).

That seems quite light compared to “Picnic’s” $455,000. Continued on P. 347 Cinema Papers, March-April — 343

DON McALPINE D ir e c t o r o f P h o to g ra p h y You are shooting on location and Don M cAlpine is one of Australia’s best known, and most not in a studio, largely I am told to widely travelled, cameramen, and, like many of his colleagues, save money. How do you find it? has enjoyed a stint at Film Australia. “ D on’s Party” is the Well, money is still a problem, third feature he has done for director Bruce Beresford; the but I would prefer to do the whole other two being “The Adventures o f Barry M cKenzie” and thing on an actual location “Barry M cKenzie Holds H is Own” . regardless. Bruce and I have work­ The film is being shot entirely on location in a brick veneer ed on three films now: the first, The Adventures of Barry McKenzie, was house in the outer Sydney suburb of W estleigh, the northern a sort of a fantasy based on fact, the equivalent of Lower Plenty. Shooting has, however, been great­ second was a fantasy based on fan­ ly hindered by incessant rain, and it was in this rain that tasy, and this will be a reality based Gordon Glenn and Scott Murray managed to talk with Don on reality — or in other words, total realism. Now, even with all about the filming so far. the experience in the world, sets still look like sets, so I was keen from the very beginning to shoot in a real house. Other Williamson plays have been filmed, and for me they were all a bit theatrical: not in perfor­ mance, but in appearance. If we can ' shoot on location, and have views through windows — even at night with lights outside — then we can begin to defeat the problem of everyone knowing it’s a film of a play, and degrading it because of that. Also Bruce is demanding com­ plex camera movements to keep the film moving: ever changing angles, perspectives and so forth. Unfor­ tunately this compounds the in­ evitable lighting problems, because on a set you can’t always get your lights up over the dolly, and you must avoid tracking through your light sources. By the time we finish filming, I should imagine every bit of the house will have been seen, and not only seen, but tracked past. Therefore I have to maintain a continuity of lighting throughout the shooting that will enable all these camera movements to occur. It’s far beyond anything I have tried before. How have you gone about it? Have you drawn up a basic lighting plan for the whole house and, with modifications, stuck to it? Well, once again it -is a question of realism: the house we are using is lit with an immense number of practicáis. We are largely using No. 1’s — that’s the 275 W photo-food. 344 — Cinema Papers, March-April

They have a short life of three hours and you can only leave them on for a take. We have run tests and found we can burn them for five minutes, but we never do that because of the overheating problem: the lamps just blow. There are a couple of those big Chinese paper lanterns in the house and we have maintained those as sources for a lot of the lighting in the living area. Basically we are just enhancing the prac: ticals. We are also trying to maintain this realism by making certain all the rooms are lit like they are in a normal house: the kitchen is lit moderately well, the big living area is a little bit brighter, and the patio is bloody near a blackout. What sort of stop are you getting? Bruce wanted it to be four because, being a situation drama, a lot of it is played in long, complex takes: the camera moving instead of cutting. Consequently we need to hold a reasonable depth of field, and that we get by shooting at four. We have been greatly aided by the week’s rehearsal we did with all the actors. The whole film has been plotted, with every camera angle worked out. This is saving an im­ mense amount of time in set-up because there is none of the usual discussion about what to do next. Unfortunately we sometimes forget the poor old crew wasn’t in on it and they occasionally get a bit lost. But we usually ask the talent to do a walk through for them. Was the rehearsal at the house? Yes. We played through the whole script as it will be filmed, see­ ing how the lines would fall with each shot, and so on. The rehearsal wasn’t to polish the acting or anything like that. How have you been affected by the heavy rain?

G ordon Glenn

Well, it has held us up a bit, and we’ve had to re-organize some of the shooting. We can’t do any shots that face onto the patio because the


rain is blowing all the globes in the Chinese lanterns — even the 100 watters. Had we not preplanned we would have probably doubled the shooting time. _

contact man and the back-up we got from him was incredible. He would comment on everything from the technical, through to the perfor­ mances. He did it discreetly and we appreciated it because it was offered constructively. T h i s n e v e r h a p p e n e d in Australia: you just send your film in and got it back. But now Color­ film, and particularly Bill Goolie, are giving me as good, if not better, service, back-up and support than I got at Rank. I believe Atlab are moving in this direction also.

All the same you must be throwing away a lot of your planning by shooting around the patio? Well, not really. All it means is that we have to shoot out of con­ tinuity. It would have been wonder­ ful to start at the beginning of the script and work our way through because that would have helped the actors and crew enormously. Another point to remember is that Don’s Party is a sort of period film; and being set in 1969 we felt it should have a reasonably hard and clear look. So I couldn’t use diffu­ sion or low contrast, though I con­ sider them ill-used and in-vogue tricks anyway. I guess people will think I am having a shot at Russell Boyd, but Russell used it excellent­ ly in Picnic — I must make that clear. It is just that a lot of other people are using it without any real motivation: they are just degrading techniques to' a point where they could just as well have shot it on bloody.. 16mm and blown it up. Anyway, with the inevitable softness of enhanced, practical lighting, I think we made the right decision by shooting on straight, clear lenses. Given most suburban homes have lots of white walls and soft backgrounds, have you had a glare problem?

What about your screen ratio?

The Panavision

Well, Bruce and I had a bit of a battle over this because I wanted to | shoot it anamorphic, like the se­ ll cond Bazza. But Bruce didn’t for a ” couple of reasons: one was because | it has got good potential for televi­ sion release, and although they can R-200° camera which also shot Picnic and High Velocity. Camera Operator, fiddle with anamorphic, it is still a Gale Tattersall, is at left. Note low ceilings. bit of a punt job; the other is that a lot of it will be played on singles, and singles always present a problem with Panavision, because it is hard to exclude the other actors — especially in a confined area like this. My argument was that one of your biggest problems shooting 1.85 with television in mind, is that you have another seven or eight per cent above the frame that you have to always keep functional. It’s mike out, lights out — the whole bloody thing out. It would be marvellous to only have one type of frame — at the moment I have got two. Will it be printed masked or un­ masked?

No. The big white lights are, of course, just big masses of white, but that’s the way they look to the eye.

I don’t know if it is a rumor or not, but I think the film has been presold to television; so obviously we wouldn’t mask it. I shoot full aperture anyway because I can see no advantage in encroaching on the frame area. If you pick up a hair in a Panavision aperture it may not even make television, but if you start using an Academy aperture and you pick up a hair, it could ruin your entire take. I have never had any problems with instability because of the wider aperture, so why the bloody hell stuff around with the release print, g After all they put the Academy in § when they release it. c 0 1 How do you find Bruce having been ° a cameraman himself?

What I meant was, that sort of effect would soften it up a bit anyway. Oh yes. In a studio you have got your incandescent top lights, and direct lights all up the top there — bloody lovely. And you drop it from the gantry, and it’s great fun, but it always looks like studio lighting. Almost all Americans, when they get on the set, light as if it was lit from the floor, except they do have the added advantage of having that little special extra when they want it. But realism is what it is all about, and that’s it. What sort of stock are you using? Making sure it’s 4. Don McAlpine with Spectra.

Eastman 5247. But we very strongly considered using Agfa Would you have had any process­ want this to sound like a bloody stock. Basically it was a question of costing and though this film is fully ing problems with that Agfa in commerci al, they have been marvellous. My experience in professional, it is low budget. We Sydney? Australia goes back a fair way, and would have had a considerable sav­ to put it nicely the Australian labs ing by using Agfa, but unfortunate­ There is a rumor that we would used to process film — full stop. ly they weren’t carrying any 1000 have had, but I cleared it first with They weren’t concerned about what footers. , our lab. Anyway, the cost savings you were on about, or what part Is this the new Agfa reversal stock? would have compensated for any they could take in the filmmaking hassles; but they didn’t have 1000s. process. Now that’s history. One thing I must say is that When I went over to England to Oh no, this is the Agfa stock that is compatible with the old East­ although I have only been with do the two Bazzas we worked Colorfilm on this job, and I don’t through Rank. We used to have a man 5251.

The more the director under­ stands what I am doing, the easier my job is. I don’t particularly ad­ mire a director who doesn’t under­ stand what a cameraman is doing. I think it is part of his craft. He doesn’t have to be a cameraman but he should know what I am talking about. This idea of me being some sort of magician is a load of shit. I believe I know my job, and if Bruce understands my problems, which he does — though he often doesn’t ad­ mit it — then the better it is. ★ Cinema Papers, March-April — 345




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FEATURE FILMS TELEVISION SERIES SHORT SUBJECTS DOCUMENTARIES COMMERCIALS Modern air-conditioned premises c o m p l e t e with I ONI C AIR CLEANERS and security alarm system

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1973 THE CARS THAT ATE PARIS A. John McLean ACS 1974 BARRY McKENZIE HOLDS HIS OWN A. Don McAlpine ACS 1974 THE REMOVALISTS S. Graham Lind ACS 1974 RIDE A WILD PONY S. Jack Cardiff 1975 PICNIC A T HANGING ROCK S. Russell Boyd ACS 1975 HIGH VELOCITY (MANILA) A. Bob Paynter BSC 1975 CADDIE S. Peter James ACS 1975 MAD DOG A. Mike Molloy 1976 DON’S PARTY S. Don McAlpine ACS 1976 HARNESS FEVER S. Geoff Burton ACS 1976 SECRET OF PARADISE BEACH S. Russell Boyd ACS

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Continued from P. 343

Well, I thought that Picnic’s budget was excessive. For a start they had the additional expenses of shooting in South ,Australia, plus an incredible surplus of producers. If you look at the titles there was Pat Lovell, who really set the film up, the McElroys, and any number of SAFC people, like John Graves. Talk about a cast of thousands — they had producers coming out their ears. Where will “Don’s Party” make it’s money? In my experience we can expect 80 per cent of the revenue to come from Australia, with 20 per cent from Britain and New Zealand. As I ’ve already said, I am very pessimistic about world sales and have discovered that even a similar market like Canada is totally dis­ interested in our work. Canadians tend to bracket Australian films with th e ir own hom e-grow n product, which they are very super­ cilious about. If the Americans won’t co­ operate by releasing Australian films in the States, do you think that justifies some sort of political action against the distributors — perhaps following the Tariff Board recom­ mendations? Boyer’s Tariff Report embodied a great many of my suggestions, in­ cluding group buying for television and the notion of partially dis­ mantling the exhibition-distributor nexus. Like everyone else, I argued that we were all victims of a sinister multi-national conspiracy, that we were being kept off our own screens by the dreaded Americans. With the wisdom of hindsight, however, I don’t believe that that was true. At best, it was a half truth. And now that a succession of governments have done everything we’ve asked of them, I think it’s safe to say so. The real reason we didn’t have a film industry, was because we didn’t want one badly enough. We didn’t have enough people with the guts of Tim Burstall, who really went out and fought for it. Oh, we had an infinite number of posers and bellyachers and self-pitying, gutless-wonders, but we had very few who were willing to mortgage their houses and put themselves at risk. Moreover, the films that were rejected by the local distributors deserved to be rejected. By and large they were shockers, and as one of the people producing shockers at the time, I’m the first to admit it. Look, of course there was bastardry from the major dis­ tributors, but that palls into in­ significance beside the real problem. — our collective cowardness and gutlessness. We just didn’t have the aggression or the commitment. Filmmaking is tough all over. I’ve studied it in tw enty, th irty countries. I’ve seen the structure in the Soviet and throughout Eastern

Europe, and everywhere it requires a tenacity of purpose to succeed — a tenacity that’s been strangely lacking in our blessed Antipodes. I remember speaking to a member of the Producers and Directors Guild in Sydney some years ago, and telling him that the real reason for our poor perfor­ mance was them, the people sitting in that room. I remember looking around at thirty boring faces and saying that all the Government money in the world w ouldn’t produce a worthwhile industry, because to do that you required people who were not only deter­ mined, but obsessed. The trouble is that Australia is such a bland, easy-going nation, whereas the significant film in­ dustries develop in countries with social problems, where there are class wars and political despotism. It is easy to achieve proficiency and professionalism at a technical level —we’ve done that for years in our television commercials — but to make significant feature films you need content. I see perhaps half a dozen scripts a week from various sources and they’re very, very bor­ ing — like the faces at that PDGA meeting. I suppose that my one hope is that the lucky country will throw up a couple of aberrant figures, the cinematic counterparts to such perverse genii as Barry Humphries and Patrick White. After all, that’s all a film industry really needs — one giant to prime the pump. If that doesn’t happen, I’m afraid the whole exercise would have been a waste of time, a lot of wand-polish­ ing. What we’re seeing now might very well turn out to be a false dawn, like the boom in drama in the 1950s, when Lawler produced Summer of the Seventeenth Doll, etc. For a while it was all euphoria and excitement, but then everything faded away and it took almost -15 years before any new playwrights of consequence emerged. And for all my enthusiasm when selling the ideas of the local film industry to Gorton and Whitlam and Dunstan, I’ve always had a secret fear that history might repeat itself. And that is why I once suggested at an Arts Council meeting that we spend our entire annual budget in importing some social problems, or a ghetto full of black panthers. Isn’t it funny? For years Aus­ tralia was one of the hardest places to mount a film, but now it would have to be the easiest place on earth — and that goes for the experi­ mental filmmaker and the feature producer. Yet, in some strange, un­ accountable way all that Govern­ ment help could turn out to be counter-productive. One thing’s for sure, the local Filmmaker has long since run out of excuses; he can no longer blame any lack of achieve­ ment on an American conspiracy, or a disinterested Government — as one could in the fifties and sixties. If you fail in the 1970s that’s your fault, not Jack Valenti’s. ★

Make-up and hair artist, Judy Lovell, between takes.

G ordon G lenn

Phil Adams

M ike G iddens


Cooley lowers his gaze on Kerry. Evan is unsure.

C R EW Director ............................. . . . Bruce Beresford Producer............................. ........Philip Adams Screenplay ......................... . David Williamson Associate Producer............ . . . .David Burrows Production S ecretary........ . Bronwyn Brostoff Director of Photography . . . . . .Don McAlpine Camera Operator .............. . .. .Gale Tattersall Focus Puller....................... ............Peter Moss Clapper/Laoder.................. . . . . David Brostoff Sound Recordist ................ ..............Des Bone Assistant Sound Recordist . . . . Graham Irwin 1st Assistant Director........ . . Mike Martorana 2nd Assistant Director . . . . . . . . Toivo Lember Continuity ......................... ........Moya Iceton G affer................................. ..........Alan Martin Key Grip ........................... ........David Petley Assistant G rip ................... . . . . Neil Matthews Assistant Electrics.............. ........Simon Perton 3rd Grip/Runner................ ..........Linda Blagg W ardrobe........................... Make-up ancTH air............ ..........Judy Lovell Editor ................................. ........Bill Anderson Assistant Editor ................ . . .Andrew Stewart Stills Photography ............ . . Michael Giddens Casting D irector................ . . . . Alison Barrett Standby Props .................... ............Robert Hill

CAST D o n ..................... Kath ................... Simon ................. Jody ................... M a i...................... Jenny .................... M ack.................... Evan . . . .•............ Kerry.................... Cooley................. Susan ..................

..................John Hargreaves ......................Jeanie Drynan ..................Graeme Blundell ......................Veronica Lang ......................... Ray Barrett ................Graham Kennedy ............................Kit Taylor ..................Candy Raymond .................. Harpld Hopkins ........................Clare Binney

Cinema Papers, March-April — 347


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35 mm Gordon Glenn

PRODUCTION SURVEY Photography............. .•................ Geoff Burton Design Consultants ......... Michael Ramsden 2nd Unit P hotography............. Bill Grimmond Stuart McDonald Camera O p e ra to r.............................John Seal Research..................................Sally Campbell Lighting .............................................Tony Tegg Grip ......................................... Geòrgie Dryden Color Process ....................................Eastman Asst. Grip ....................................... Phil Warner Stills Photographers............... John Brothers, Sound R ecordist...................Ken Hammond Geoff Neild Boom O p e ra to r........................ David Cooper THE BIG FELLOW Set Designer .......................... David Copping G a ffer................................... Brian Bansgrove (Working title) Continuity ..................................Lyn McEncrow 35 m m IN P R O D U C T I O N Sound re-re cord ist.....................Peter Fenton S c re e n p la y .................................... Paul Martin Make-up ................................ Patricia Cunlisse Best B o y ......................................Paul Gantner Production C om pany................... Prana Films Chief G rip s ............................ Graeme Mardell, Make-up ........................................... Liz Mitchie Synopsis: The film is about an ex-Premier of Ross Erickson Asst. E lectronics.........................Ian Plummer NSW, the late Jack Lang, and his second and Sound R ecordist..........................................DonConnely Cast: Arthur Dignam, Rufus Collins, Nell most turbulent term of office (1930-32). DON’S PARTY Boom O p e ra to r..................... Roland McManis Campbell, Andrew Sharp, Kate Fitzpatrick. B u d g e t.................................. $350,000 approx. See Production Report, pages 339-347 Animal T ra in e r..............................................Jim Prine Synopsis: Not available. Length ..................................................... Feature Horsemaster.............................................. HeathHarris B u d g e t................................................. $350,000 Progress ......................................Preproduction Wardrobe Designer ................. Judy Dorsman Length ............................................... 100 mins. No further details available. • Cast: Robert Betties,Tom Farley, Andrew Gauge .....................................................35 mm THE FOURTH WISH McFairlane, Mary Ward, Julie Anne Nubold. Color Process ....................................Eastman Synopsis: Story of harness’ racing in 1911. D ire c to r...................................................... DonChaffey Progress ...................... Shooting commenced Executive Producer ......................Jill C. Robb Casting................................... Sandra McKenzie February 16th, 1976 BREAK OF DAY P ro d u ce r..................................................... JohnMorris Production A ccountants........... Fred Harding, D ire c to r.................... Ken Hannam Associate Producer .......................Matt Carrol Treifha Ghent S cre e n p la y......................................Cliff Green Production Manager ..................... Matt Carrol Gauge .....................................................35 mm P ro d u c e r.................................... Patricia Lovell Location M anager............. Beverley Davidson Progress ...................................... In Production Associate Producers ................... Cliff Green, 35m m A W A IT IN G R E L E A S E 1st Assistant Director ............. Mark Egerton Geoff Burton 2nd Assistant D irector........... Steve Knapman OZ Production Company . Artis Film Productions 3rd Assistant D ire c to r...............Ron Sanders Cast: Yet to be decided. D ire c to r...................................................... ChrisLofven Photography................................Geoff Burton D istributor...................................................BEF Synopsis: Original screenplay. A love story set Camera O p e ra to r................. Gayle Tattersall in a Victorian country town in 1920. Production Com pany............................... CourtFeatures THE DEVIL’S PLAYGROUND F o cu s ...................................... John Illingworth P roducer.................................................... ChrisLofven M u s ic ........................................George Dreyfus Stills Photographer...................David Kynoch D ire c to r......................................Fred Schepisi Associate Producer .......................Jane Scott Photography............................................RussellBoydArt D irector.............................. David Copping Production C om pany...................The Feature Production Manager .................... Lyne Helms E d ito r............................................................ MaxLemon B u y e r........................................ Graham Walter Film House Production Secretary.................................Julie Hocking Production Manager ....................Pom Oliver Dresser ............................................Ken James P ro d u cer....................................Fred Schepisi Assistant D ire cto r................................... WalterBoston Production Designer ........... Wendy Dickson Construction M anager..........................HerbertPaiter Production Manager .................Greg Tepper S creenplay.................................................ChrisLofven Progress ....... Commences shooting in April Production Secretary........................Amy Pulle Assistant D ire ctors.....................Mai Bryning, Photography......... .........................Dan Burstall Production A cco u n ta n t...........Fulvio Filipponi Rhonda Schepisi Camera A ssista n t........................................IvanHexter M u s ic ....................................................... TristanCary Script . ................................... Fred Schepisi PHAR LAP LIVES Stills Photographer......................................SueWood P ublicity...................................................... PeterWelsh Photography.................................... Ian Baker (w o rk in g title ) Art D irector..............................................RobbiePerkins E d ito r....................................G. Turnery-Smith Camera A ssista n t......................Peter Symes P ro p s ...........................................................John Slattery Assistant E d ito r........................................ Viano Jaska D ire c to r...........................................................IanMacrea Stills Photographer...................John Gollings Standby W a rdro b e................. Judith Soloman Production C om pany................................GiantStepDubbing Editor ........................ Lindsay Frazer Art D irector....................................Trevor Ling M u s ic ...........................................................RossWilson Dubbing Assistant .......................Craig Lahuff P ro d u ce r.........................................................IanMacrea Costum es/W ardrobe........... Bruce Finlayson Continuity .........................................Jan Tyrrell Continuity .............................. Caroline Stanton Screenplay ....................................Colin Talbot, M u s ic ...................................... Bruce Smeaton Make-up ........................................Joan Cooley Make-up ....................................... Helen Dyson Gary Hutchinson, E d ito r......................................Brian Kavanagh G a ffe r.......................................................... Tony Holtham Wardrobe A ssista n t...............................Mandy Smith Ian Macrea Assistant E d ito r............................ Rodney Jay Chief G r ip .................................................... NoelMudie Assistant M a k e -u p ..................., Lloyd James Photography.....................................Mike Edols Continuity ........................................Jan Tyrrell Sound R ecordist..................................... DannyDyson E d ito r........................................................... JohnScottGrip ................................................ Phil Warner Make-up ....................................Ann Pospichlll Boom O p e ra to r....................... Chris Goldsmith G rip /D riv e r................................. Michael White Synopsis: Story of the attempted shooting of Chief G r ip ................................Joel Witherden Hairdresser..................................................... Ian Morrey Sound R ecordist.......................................Barry Brown Phar Lap and the efforts of the owner to Sound R ecordist...................... Don Connolly Best B o y ...................................................... PaulHolford C la p p e r....................................David Foreman protect the horse over the four days leading up Boom O p e ra to r......................... Joe Spinnelli Stunt Co-O rdinator............. Graham Matherick G a ffe r................................................ Tony Tegg to the 1930 Melbourne Cup. C lapper/Loader.....................Wolfgang Kress Cast: Joy Dunstan, Graham Matters, Bruce Boom O p e ra to r.................................. Bob Allen Length .................................................100 mins. G a ffer.......................................... Brian Adams Spence, Michael Carmen, Gary Waddell, Third E le ctrics.............................. Errika Addis B u d g e t................................................. $400,000 T itles...................................................... Al et al Robin Ramsay, Ned Kelly, Paula Maxwell. Best B o y ....................................Allan Dunstan Best B o y .....................................Denis Nikolic Progress ............................ Pre-production Synopsis: A rock and roll road movie. C arpenter/Laborer.................................. Phillip Surry Cast: Arthur Dignam, Nick Tate, Simon Burke, B u d g e t..................................................$150,000 Location H airdresser..........Maddy Jamieson Charles McCullum, John Frawley, Jonathan Length ..............................................90 mins. THE PICTURE SHOW MAN Cast: John Meillon, Robert Betties, Robyn Hardy, Gerry Duggan, Peter Cox, John Gauge .....................................................35 mm Nevin, Brian Anderson, Michael Craig, Julie Diedrich, Thomas Kenneally. D ire c to r......................................... John Power Color Process ..................................... Eastman Dawson, Anne Haddy, Ron Haddrick, Julie Synopsis: Tom Allen is a thirteen-year-old boy Production C om pany......................... Limelight Progress .......................Shooting Feb./March Hamilton, Moishe Smith. enrolled in a religious training college In 1953. Productions Pty. Ltd. Synopsis: A film exploring the rare nature of a The film explores his relationship with his P ro d u ce r......................................... Joan Long father/son relationship. Initially refusing to fellow students, the Brothers and his parents. S cre e n play..................................... Joan Long THE SECRET OF PARADISE BEACH accept the inevitability of his son’s death The Brothers are also highlighted — their Photography...........................Geoffrey Burton through leukemia, the father defies authority problems, their relationships, etc. D ire c to r....................................... Jim Sharman Synopsis: Comedy-drama about a travelling and convention In order to make his son’s life B u d g e t..................................................$300,000 D istribution...................................................BEF picture showman in the New South Wales back as full as possible. Eventually, he discovers the Length ................................................. 107 min. Production C om pany.............................. SecretPicture country. Late 1920s. depth of his own courage and determination Color Process ..................................... Eastman Productions Length .................................................. Feature and is “ reborn” a man. Progress .........................Awaiting distribution P ro d u cer............................... Michael Thornhill Progress .................................. Pre-production B u d g e t................................................. $240,000 Production Manager .............. Ross Matthews Length ................................................. Feature Production C o-ordinator........... Jenny Woods STORM BOY Progress ................. .................... Editing Stage 1st Assistant Director ................Errol Sullivan 2nd Assistant D irector.............. Mark Turnbull D ire c to r........................................Henri Saffran 3rd Assistant D ire c to r.............................. KeithKeygate Production Company South Australian Film For details of the following 35 mm films see the HARNESS FEVER S creenplay................................................. JohnAitken Corporation previous issue: Photography................................. Russell Boyd Executive Producer .....................John Morris D ire c to r....................................... Don Chaffey Wardrobe Designer ......... Kristen Fredriksen Caddie P ro d u cer......................................... Matt Carroll Production C om pany...................Walt Disney Let the Balloon Go S cre e n play..................................... Sonia Borg P ro d u ce r....................... Jerome' Courtland Wardrobe M a s te r.................................... BruceFinlayson Focus P u lle r.................................... Peter Moss Mad Dog S to ry .............................. Novel by Colin Thiele Managed in Australia Art D irector..................................... Jane Norris The Trespassers Investors ............. AFC, Hanna Barbara Aust. b y ................................ Samson Productions Props B u y e r.................................Lissa Coote End Play Art D irector.............................. David Copping Associate Producer .................Hugh Attwooll Standby P rops......................................... MonteFieguth Give the Dog a Good Name Animal T ra in e r.......................... Gordon Noble Production Manager ...................Sue Milliken Construction M anager.................................RayBrocus Cast: Presently being selected. Production C o-ordinator...............Pom Oliver M u s ic ................................................... Cameron Allen Synopsis: A young man and his father who live Assistant D ire cto rs.............Mark Edgerton, E d ito r........................................................... SaraBennett in an isolated coastal wilderness known as Steve Knapman Assistant E d ito r........................................ HelenBrown “the Coorang" rescue and raise a young Screenplay ......................................... Ed Jurist Dubbing Editor ................................ Greg Bell p e lic a n . T he b ird c h a n g e s b o th the Based on the N o v e l...................The Boyds of C o n tin u ity .................................. Gilda Barachi relationship between father and son and their Black River Choreography ...........................Cristine Koltai future.

35m m P R E P R O D U C T IO N

B u d g e t................................................. $220,000 Length ................................................. 90 mins. Color Process ....................................Eastman Progress ............................ Shooting mid-May

■ Above: Writer of Picnic and Break of Day, Cliff Green.

Cinema Papers, March-April — 349

16 M M


id miti PRODUCTION SURVEY Sound Assistant ...........................Sheree Guhi Sound R ecordist.......................................... NellRoslnskl Gauge .....................................................16 mm Properties................................Penny Lehman Set C onstruction.........................Craig Stearns Progress ......................................Answer print Clapper/Loader..........................................LarryCook Asst, to Production .................. Cookie Knapp 16m m P R O D U C T IO N S U R V E Y Cast: Bevan Lee, David McDonald, Tim Hood, Cast: Uschi Dlghart, Marla Gavin, Sue Dolorla, Robert Savage, John Holmes, Al Ward, Teresa Chris Hoppenbrouwers, Bill McCluskey, Tom THE LAST DRINK Caputo, Alfonso Williams. Martin, Trevor Todd, Diana Jodrell, Pauline D ire c to r....................................................KendalFlanagan Synopsis: An Australian female psychiatrist Hood, Christine Symes, Allan Kemp, Frank researches the ten most common female fan­ Assistant D ire c to r.......................Chris Fitchett Johnson, David Griffiths, Doug Thomson, Allan BIO-GAS tasies. S creenplay.............................................. KendalFlanagan Lees, Steve Edwards. D ire c to r............................................MikeRubbo Lighting Cam eram an......................Ellery Ryan B u d g e t.................................................... $70,000 Synopsis: That sacred and most primeval of Distributor/Production Art Director................................Meg Flaskamp Length .....................................................Feature male customs — theAustralianBuck's Party. Company .....................UN Habitat with the C o n tin u ity .......................................... Julie Bates B u d g e t....................................................... $8000 Gauge .................................................... 16 mm assistance of the Fiji Sound R ecordists....................... Graham Irwin, Length ....................................................40 mins Color Process ......................................Eastman Government Danny Dyson Color Process ......................................Eastman Progress ........................ Release date is April P ro d u cers....................................Mike Rubbo, Cast: Susan Dobson, Nicholas Flanagan. Progress .....................Shooting early January Photography................................................... IanStocks B u d g e t.......................................................$2000 Color Process ......................................Eastman Length ................................................... 20 mins. FOR WHAT Sound R ecordist.........................................MikeRubbo Progress ...................................... Final editing CONTRASTS D ire c to r.................. Misha Nussinov Synopsis: A film on the use of pig excreta to Production C o m pn a y.......... Invincible Pictures P ro d u cer................................... Misha Nussinov produce fuel for rural communities; and possi­ P ro d u cer.................................................. Paul F. Ruckert Photography..............................Misha Nussinov ble extensions of the digester concept. LITTLE CREATURES Synopsis: Documentary on pollution and con­ Camera A ssista n t...................... Mike Chojecki Developed by George Chan. Made for the Production C o m pa n y.......... Invincible Pictures servation. Australian flora and fauna are con­ Sound R ecordist.......................... Robert Wells Habitat Conference Vancouver. P roducer................................... Paul F. Ruckert trasted with the concrete jungles. Synopsis: A film about waiting, and the Length ..................................................... 500 ft. Screenplay .................................Iris D. Ruckert B u d g e t....................................................... $7000 significance it plays from birth to death. The Running Time ................................... 12 mins. Photography................................Paul Ruckert Length .................................................... 1900 ft frustration of waiting — its inevitability, futility B u d g e t....................................................... $8000 M u s ic ............................................................ APA Gauge .................................................... 16 mm and humor. Gauge .....................................................16 mm N arrator....................................... Kevin Golsby Color Process ......... Gevachrome by Kinelab Length ..................................25 mins, (approx) Progress .......................... Completed Jan. 76 Cast: Australian Insects Progress .................................................. Editing Progress .................................................. Editing Synopsis: Complete life-cycle of insects, as seen through the eyes of Fred — the new born bullant who ventures out Into the world. BLACK, RED, WHITE CRAZY MOVIES B u d g e t....................................................... $7000 HIGHWAY ONE Length ................................................... 1900 ft. D ire c to r....................................Paul F. Ruckert D ire c to r.................................... Peter Friedrichs D ire c to r...................................................... SteveOtton Gauge ....................................................... 16mm Production Com pany....... Invincible Pictures Production Manager ...............Don McLennan Production Company .. .Highway Productions Color Process ......... Gevachrome by Kinelab Location C o-O rdinator............... Virginia Brook P ro d u cer.................................................. Paul F.Ruckert Executive Producer ...................... David Elfick Production Assistants .................Iris Ruckert, Progress ......................................... In release S cre e n play.............................. Peter Friedrichs P ro d u cer.................................................... SteveOtton Michael Ruckert Photography............................ Peter Friedrichs Screenplay ...................Steve Otton and cast Camera A ssista n t.............................. Phil Cross Camera A ssista n t...................Paul F. Ruckert Photography............................ Steven Mason, Special Photographic Props, S e ts............................................ Bromlyn MELANIE AND ME Steve Otton E ffe cts..................................................Paul F. Ruckert Sound R ecordist........................ Lloyd Carrick M u s ic ..................................Bilgola Bop Band, D ire c to r....................................... Chris Fitchett E d ito r........................................................Paul F.Ruckert Cast: Rod McNicol, Lisa Peers. Brew Everett Photography....................................Ellery Ryan Synopsis: “ One of the craziest movies ever E d ito rs ..................................... Phil Sheppard, Synopsis: Examination of the interaction of Music D irectors.......................... Simon Jones, made. A gag-up on films and television today. male and female roles in contem porary Steven Otton John Shaw No definite story line, just plain crazy, crazy, Cast: Kim Bradley, Phillip Monteroz, Robert society. Sound R ecordists............. Michael Cremean, crazy . . . ” Length ...................................................86 mins. Steen, Josephine Grieve, Greta, Rachlel Hynd. John Ruane, B u d g e t....................................................... $9000 Synopsis: Two kids set off to show a surfing Progress .................................... Pre-production Tim Smart Gauge ....................................................... 16mm film along the North Coast, where they meet BudS e t.................................................... $12,000 Assistant D ire ctors.....................Julie Steiner, Length ................................................... 2000 ft. with various parts of the surfing sub-cult. The Andrew Crulckshank Color Process ......... Gevachrome by Kinelab leading surfer finally vanishes in a perfect Continuity ....................................... Cass Peters Progress .................................................. Editing wave. Still Photography ...................Peter Edwards BRISTOW AND THE BLACK MARLIN B u d g e t.................................................. $28,000 Graphics ..................................Gordon Fitchett Production C o m pa n y............... Fathom Films Length .................................................80 mins. Cast: Michael Carman, Sally Conabere, Deb­ S cre e n play................................ Peter Bristow Progress .......................... Shooting Jan./Feb. THE DEVIL’S PARTY bie Burke, Annie Ryall. Photography.......................... John H. Harding D ire c to r.................................................Don Frie Synopsis: The story of a struggling actress who Diving Asst................................... Geoff Towner P ro d u cer...................................................... AlanBond pays off the debts to her fla tm a te by 2nd Above-Water IT WAS ONLY MY IMAGINATION Assistant D ire cto r...................... Alan Bond questionable means. C am eram an.......................... Joss Edwards Screenplay ........................................Alan Bond D ire c to r....... ...............................Mike Chojecki B u d g e t.......................................................$5000 Shark Cage Construction...............Justin Case S to ry........................................... Trevor Scahill P ro d u cer..................................................... MikeChojecki Length ...................................................50 min. Special Effects . . . : ............................ Colorfllm Photography.................................................AlanBond Production Assistant ..................Michael Egan Progress .............................................In release Cast: Game fishing experts: Peter Bristow, Lighting ...............................................Jim Dunn Photography.............................................. MichaNussinov Steve Zuckerman, Jim and Susan Perry, E d ito r.......................................................... ChrisEddy S creenplay..................................................MikeChojecki Spencer Simmons. Art Direction..............................Ted Hutchings Continuity ......................................Don McNair ON THE BALL Synopsis: The world’s best location for the E d ito r............................................................... M.Chojecki Sound R ecordists......................Bob Cooper, D ire c to r......................................................GavinWilson giant marlin is north of Cooktown, Queensland. Synopsis: Drama-documentary about an Jim Dunn Production Com pany............................ Pinking Several fish are caught, many are released. Cast: Yvonne Kuvener, Daryl Hood, Trevor athlete training to break the 4000 mile long­ P ro d u cer.................................. Peter Kingston Length .................................................... 33 mins distance running record and his friendship with Scahill, Maurice Hatter, Christine Croome, Production Assistants ............... Martin Sharp, Gauge .......................................................16mm Paula Samuelson, the Goat of Mendes. a deaf-mute. Hugh, Progress ....................................... Release print Synopsis: Four young people attend a mystery Cast: Steven Taylor, Graeme Kristensen Argon, surprise party, with bizarre and deadly conse­ Length .............................................. 20 minutes Grant quences. B u d g e t..................................................... $4500 S creenplay.............................. Peter Kingston, B u d g e t........................................................$3000 Color Process ............................Eastman 7254 Gavin Wilson Length ............................................ 25-30 mins. Progress .................................................Editing Photography................................ Gavin Wilson, THE BUCK’S PARTY Color Process ......................................Eastman Argon, D ire c to r........................................Steve Jodrell Progress .................................................. Editing Peter Kingston Production Manager .....................Jill Mercer Stills Photographers..................................... JonLewis, Production Assistant .. .Pieta O’Shaughnessy KING OF THE ISLANDS Tim Storrler, Assistant D ire c to r........... ,.........Keith Saggers D ire c to r........................................... Ken Sallows Special Photographic Effects ...A rg on S cre e n play.................................. Steve Jodrell FANTALE P ro d u cer......................................... Ken Sallows M u s ic ...........................................Richard Liney, Photography........................ Wally Fairweather D ire c to r...................................................RichardFranklin S creenplay......................................Ken Sallows Sharon Calcraft Camera O p e ra to r........................... Pat Meher Production Com pany......................TLN Films Photography................................David Connell Cast: Peter Kingston, Keiko Rising, Krista, 2nd Assistant C am era......... Graeme Watson Executive Producers .....................Leon Gorr, Camera A ssista n t......................Vincent Tucci Edwin Denby, Rufus Collins, Julia Sale, Buko, Stills Photographer.......................... Leon Bird Ted Mulder E d ito r...............................................Ken Sallows Jack Hannon, Jaws shark, the missing girls Wardrobe .................................. Christine Best P ro d u cer............................ Antony I. Ginnane Sound E d ito r.............................., Dean Gawen from Picnic at Hanging Rock. E d ito r.................................................Geoff Hall S creenplay..................................................RossDimsey, Sound Mixer .......................... David Harrison Synopsis: A Sydney man's clothes are 1st Assistant Editor ......... Mary Ruth Squires Antony I. Ginnane Sound R ecordist.....................Mark Wasiutak mysteriously switched for a postman’s outfit 2nd Assistant E ditor............ Warren Williams Photography........................................... VincentMonton T itles...................... , ................ Owen Brothers while he is in a Japanese bathhouse. Puzzled Continuity ....................................... Jenny Kerr Unit M anager................................Tom Hamell Cast: Gary McKechnle, Stephen Mlllichamp. he sets out to deliver letters around the world. Script A ssistant...................Rhonda Flottman Assistant Cam eram an................. Stewart Dell Synopsis: A nursery tale of an adverse B u d g e t........................................................$3000 Grips ................................................. Chris Bell, Make-up ................................ Debbie Maxwell relationship In a desolate place. Shot on loca­ L_ength ................................................... 40 mins Ron Choo, G a ffer............................................Frank Sllveira tion at Phillip Island. Gauge .....................................................16 mm Dave Rowlands Grip ............................................. Ron Batsdorf B u d g e t...................................................... $2500 Color Process .......................... Kodachrome II Sound R ecordist..............................Nye Smith 2nd Grip ..................................... John Murphy Length .................................................20 mins. Progress .......................... Final editing stages

350 — Cinema Papers, March-April

Above: Peter Kingston’s On the Ball.

Camera A ssista n t.........................Margo Nash OUT OF THE PAST Grip ................................................Rod Bishop D ire c to r............................................Ellery Ryan E d ito rs .........................................Peter Tammer, Production C om pany.........................Film Noir A V E C F IL M U N I T Gayle Haglund P ro d u c e r......................................................ChrisFitchett Script Assistant/ Production Manager ..........Adrian Plckersgill Research....................................Julie Suares Production S ecretary............Elizabeth Whiffin Synopsis: Documentary on the Cold War in S c re e n p la y ...................................... Ellery Ryan Australia. Lighting C am eram an................. .John Ruane B u d g e t................................................... $18,000 AUTHOR AND MAN Camera A ss is ta n t................... Brett Southwick Length ................................................. 50 mins. D ire c to r..................................Ross R. Campbell E d ito r............................................................MaryNorfolk Gauge .....................................................16 mm P ro d u ce r.............................. Ross R. Campbell Continuity ..................................Deborah Jones Color Process .......................... ! . . . . Eastman Production Company . . . AVEC Film Unit, M a k e -U p .................................Michael Carmen Progress ..............................Shooting Jan/Feb. Education Department of Victoria. Chief G r ip ..........................................Rob Doyle S creenplay.......................... Maree Teychenee, Sound R e co rd ist.........................Peter Gawler Gabriella Batchelor Boom O p e ra to r..................... Peter Gwynne Sound R ecordist.......................David Hughes G a ffe r..............................................Chris Oliver ZIZZEMZAM Photography..................................... Ivan Gaai Cast: Daryl Strachan, Ellery Ryan, Ruth Brown, D ire c to r...............................................Ron Owen E d ito r................................................. Ivan Gaai Les Carter, John Marriott, John Flaus. P ro d u ce r............................................ Ron Owen Lighting ............................................. Ivan Gaai, Synopsis: From bank robbery and betrayal in Production Manager .....................Phil Noyce John Sullivan Sydney, to a final confrontation in Melbourne Assistant D ire c to r.....................Steve Wallace Synopsis: Part One: “ Life and Influences” . — with $150,000 hanging on the result. S cre e n play........................................Ron Owen Length 45 min. Part Two: “ On Writing” . Length B u d g e t........................................................$4000 Photography.............................. David Gribble 40 min. Part Three: “ Gurrawilla” . Length 21 Length ................................................. 30 mins. Camera O p e ra to r...................... Nixon Binney min. In this series of three films, noted Color Process ...................................... Eastman E d ito rs ..................................... IanBarry, Australian author Alan Marshall talks exten­ Progress .......................................Final Editing Ron Owen sively about his lifetime of writing. The spirit of Grip ................................................... Rus. Boyd the man as much as his work is revealed. In the Sound R ecordist...........................................JeffDoring third film Marshall takes on the role of SOLOMONS HOUSING T itle s............................................................MavisAbolins raconteur, telling two stories directly to the D ire c to r........................................................ Mike Rubbo Cast: Sandra McGregor, Brian Barrie, Andrew camera, including a definitive version of his D istributor............. UN Habitat in Association Jacob, John Norman famous short story, How I Met General Pau. with Solomons Govt. Synopsis: A dark comedy about a super­ Lighting ............................................. Ivan Gaai, P ro d u cers.................................... Mike Rubbo, stitious, eccentric married couple who confront John Sullivan Ian Stocks the supernatural. Color Process ....................................Eastman Photography .......................................Ian Stocks B u d g e t........................................................$5000 Progress .......................... Release Print stage Color Process .................................... Eastman Length ................................................. 25 mins. Sound R e co rd ist.........................................MikeRubbo Color Process ......................................Eastman Synopsis: A study of housing problems and Progress ........................................ Final Editing solutions (including the use of traditional CIRCUS NOMADS materials) in the Solomon Islands’ capital of D ire c to r.............................................. Ivan Gaai P ro d u cer............................ Ross R. Campbell Honiara. Made for the Habitat Conference, Vancouver, 1976. Production C om pany............... Avec Film Unit Photography......................................Ivan Gaai For details of the following 16mm films see the E d ito r................................................. Ivan Gaai previous issue: Sound R ecordist.......................David Hughes SURRENDER IN PARADISE Production Assistant ............... Gerry Hudson Adam D ire c to r..............................................Peter Cox Synopsis: This film explores the magic of cir­ Alcestis Production C om pany..........Paradise Pictures cus life as seen by the audience and contrasts Applause Please P ro d u c e r........................................... Peter Cox it with the personal hardship of an unrelenting Contrived Mind Flashes Producer Assistants................... Chris Collier, existence. Daffy Evan Ham Color Process ....................................Eastman Delicious Dreams Despite Depression Production Manager ............. Nick Kospartov Length ................................................. 20 mins. Double Dealer Assistant D ire c to r.......................Toiro Lember Progress .................-........Release print stage. Everyman S c r ip t................................................. Peter Cox Dr. K Photography...............................Don McAlpine The Dream of Loh Camera A s s is ta n t.......................................... IanRowatt Down the Road THE DEPRESSION IN AUSTRALIA Production Assistants ................... Bob Green, Heart and Soul (Working title) Salvatore Esposito, Felix Kenea Rowe, D ire c to r.....................................Robert Francis Hard Knocks Jim Laurie P ro d u cer............................ Ross R. Campbell A Himalayan Journey Production C om pany.............. Avec Film Unit Costumes .................................... Lindy Crofts, Illuminations Jackie Nlfe S cre e n play...........................Maree Teychenee Jog’s Trot E d ito r........................................ Robert Francis Set Designer .................................. Jackie Nife Kazzam International Assistant E d ito r.................Gabriella Batchelor M u s ic ..............................................Ralph Tyrrell Last Drive-in Movie Assistant D ire c to r............. Gabriella Batchelor Continuity ....................................... Lindy Crofts The Man Eaters Research............................ Gabriella Batchelor Sound R e co rd ist............................ Jan Murray Mrs Bilson Synopsis: Through still photographs and Boom O p e ra to r..............................Peter Scott Me Dad Used to Ride Road Bikes archival footage this film aims to give a Mixer .............................Murraymix (Brisbane) No Place Else in the World to Be dramatic appreciation of life during the Great C lapper/Loader......................... Perry Marshell Once Depression in Australia. Cast: Errol O’Neill, Ross Gilbert, Jeff Blow, Pure Shit Carolyn Howard, Rod Wissler, Bill Reynolds, Length .................................................20 mins. Queensland Color Process ....................................Eastman Harry Gibbs, Gaye Poole, Robbie Ireland, The Student Progress ..................................Scripting stage Gavin Patterson. Surfabout 75 Synopsis: A film that looks like a chase, has Surrender in Paradise elements of metaphysical distress and is full of The Understudy surprises and comedy. In other words, ‘mock FILM LANGUAGE Zodiac Fair-Ground fiction’. (Working title) Horse H a n d le rs.............................. Rose Free, D ire c to r............................................. Ivan Gaai Peter Wright, P ro d u ce r......... . . . . ...........Ross R. Campbell Cecily Horsburgh, Production Com pany............. AVEC Film Unit Kathy Beitz Photography......................................Ivan Gaai B u d g e t.....................................................$35,000 E d ito r.................................................Ivan Gaai Length ................................................. 90 mins. Production Manager ............... Gerry Hudson Color Process ...................................... Eastman Synopsis: This tw o -p a rt p ro d u ctio n for Progress ................................ Editing Jan/Feb students beginning in film studies explores basic “film language” . A short story unfolds in purely visual terms; the second part of the film reveals how the sequence was filmed. Film UNTITLED terms are introduced progressively. D ire c to r......................................... John Hughes Progress ............................................. Scripting P ro d u c e r....................................... John Hughes Production Co-Ordinator ........... Lyn Hughes Photography............................... Gordon Glenn

Above Left: John Flaus as Doug in John Raune’s Queensland.

Above Right: Gabi Tresk and Tony LlewellynJones in Paul Cox’s Illuminations.

GRAPHIC COMMUNICATION (working title) S cre e n play....................................Peter Green P ro d u cer............................ Ross R. Campbell Production C om pany............. AVEC Film Unit Animators . .,........................ Alexander Milsky, Peter Green, Des Bunyon Curriculum Advisors ...................Doug Craig, Colin Breckon, Harry Dover Synopsis: An animated film to promote under­ standing of the newly-introduced study of graphic communication in secondary and technical schools. The film aims to develop basic concepts and skills In the communication of information and ideas through graphic means. Progress .........................................In progress

LET THERE BE LIGHT D ire c to r............................................... Ivan Gaai P ro d u ce r............................ Ross R. Campbell Production Com pany............. AVEC Film Unit Photography........................................Ivan Gaai E d ito r................................................... Ivan Gaai Production Assistant ......... Catherine Burnett Synopsis: The theme of light — natural and man-made — is explored in this film. Without commentary the film depicts all manner and application of light from a match flame to a llaser beam. Color Process ....................................Eastman Length ................................................... 9 mins. Progress ....................................... Release print

MIGRANT CHILDREN D ire c to r....................................... John Sullivan P ro d u ce r............................ Ross R. Campbell Production Com pany............. AVEC Film Unit Research..................................... John Sullivan Synopsis: This film will be an exploration of the feelings of migrant children, it will present some of the problems and possibilities of living in a multi-cultural society. Progress ..................................Pre-production

MODERN MASTERS (Working title) D ire c to r......................................Robert Francis Ivan Gaai P ro d u cer............................ Ross R. Campbell Production C om pany............. AVEC Film Unit Production Manager .............. Gerry Hudson Synopsis: Using the paintings of the Modern M asters E x h ib itio n (N a tio n a l G a lle ry, Melbourne) and selected archival footage, the film will aim to show the purity of commitment, endeavor and experimentation from which the paintings were born; and relate this to their function in present day society.. Color Process ....................................Eastman Progress ......................................Editing Stage

RHYTHM IN ATHLETICS D ire c to r........................................................JohnSullivan P ro d u cer...............................Ross R. Campbell Production C om pany.............AVEC Film Unit S cre e n play..................................Helen Harris, John Sullivan Photography............................ .John Sullivan Assistant Photography .........! Rob McCubbin Sound R ecordists.................Robert Frances, Gabriella Batchelor, David Hughes Production Co-Ordinator ........... Ross Lukeis Continuity ....................................Gerry Hudson Color Process .............................. Ektachrome Length ...............................................10 minutes Progress ........................... Release print stage. Synopsis: A film to stimulate interest and appreciation of the many types of track and field events. Competitive elements are deemphaslzed; the exhilaration and beauty of the activities predominate.

Cinema Papers, March-April — 351

J O H V D w n y .



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GENERAL PRODUCTION SURVEY ZOO D ire c to r..................................... Gerry Hudson P ro d u cer............................ Ross R. Campbell Production C om pany............. AVEC Film Unit Screenplay ................................Gerry Hudson, Judy McNaughton Photography................................John Sullivan Assistant Photography ......... Rob McCubbin Sound R ecordists....................David Hughes, Gabriella Batchelor E d ito r.........................................Robert Francis Graphics ..............................Alexander Milsky Production C o-ordinator............. Ross Lukeis Synopsis: This film explores in close detail a wide variety of animals on display in the Melbourne Zoological Gardens. The animals film ed include representatives from the different major animal groups. Color Process ................................... Eastman L e n g th .................................................14 mins. Progress .............................................. Editing

A U S T R A L I A N F IL M C O M M IS S IO N Film projects given financial support September-October, 1975 Pre-production Approvals Tom Jeffrey Samson Productions Project: The Reckoning $4,600 Ann Folland Project: For The First Time $5,250 Bob Talbot and Associates Project: Heroin Journeys $3,000 Pat Lovell and M&L Pty Ltd Project: Daniel

In v ie w o f th e ra p id g ro w th o f A u s t ra lia n p ro d u c tio n th e c o ­ o r d in a to r o f th is c o lu m n w o u ld b e g r e a t ly a s s is te d b y in ­ d iv id u a l p ro d u c e rs a n d d ir e c ­ to rs s e n d in g t h e ir p ro d u c tio n d e ta ils a n d s tills to : P ro d u c tio n S u rv e y , C in e m a P a p e rs , 143 T h e r r y S tre e t, M e lb o u rn e , V ic to ria , 3000.

$ 2,000

Kavanagh Productions Project: Mystery of a Hansom Cab $3,000 Robert Bruning Project: Love Me Sailor $3,750 Production Approvals Chris Lofven Project: Oz $80,000 Motif Film Productions Project: Vanishing Wilderness $5,000 Densey Clyne/Jim Frazier Project: Larger Than Life $15,000 David Elfick Project: Mad Dog Documentary $3,000 Homestead Films Project: Tandarra $75,000 D. S. Waddington Project: Barney $20,000 Gemini Productions Project: Paradise $10,773 Crawford Productions Project: Solo One $ 202,000 Post Production Approvals Island Films Project: Rolling Home $18,000

S O U T H A U S T R A L IA N F IL M C O R P O R A T I O N ADELAIDE FESTIVAL OF ARTS S creenplay..............................Terry Jennings Executive Producer ........... Lesley Hammond Distribution Company ........................ S.A.F.C. Synopsis: Adelaide and the Festival of Arts in 1976. Length .............................................10 minutes Gauge ......................................................35mm S ponsor........................ Premier’s Department ALCOHOL Screenplay ................................Ron Saunders Executive Producer ...............Malcolm Smith Production Com pany...................Scope Films Synopsis: Aimed at 14-18 year olds. To demonstrate the dangers inherent in the mis­ use of alcohol. Length .............................................20 minutes Gauge .......................................................16mm Color Process ..................................... Eastman Sponsor........... South Australian Department of Public Health BUILDING SCHOOLS Screenplay .....................................David Tiley Executive Producer ........... Lesley Hammond Distribution Company ......................... S.A.F.C. Synopsis: Shows the advantages of using the Demak building system — particularly in rela­ tion to schools. Length ..................................... . 20 minutes Gauge ......................................................16mm Sponsor........... Public Buildings Department, South Australia FAMILY PLANNING Screenplay ..............................Caroline Ainslie Executive Producer ........... Lesley Hammond Distribution Company ........................ S.A.F.C. Synopsis: To motivate people towards family planning. It is aimed particularly at a lower middle class audience. Length ............................................ 20 minutes Gauge ......................................................16mm Sponsor............. Family Planning Association (S.A.) Inc. FESTIVALS OF THE OUTBACK D ire c to r......................................Ron Saunders Screenplay ................................Ron Saunders Executive Producer .................Peter Dimond Synopsis: Tells of the people of Australia’s out­ back who relax by holding crazy, mad-hattertype festivals. M u s ic ........................................ Schmoe & Co. Photography.................... Edwin Scragg ACS, Ron Lowe ACS E d ito r.............................................Kerry Regan Length ................................................ 12 mins. Gauge ......................................................16mm Color Process ..............................Ektachrome Sponsor......... Australian Tourist Commission

LIBRARY Screenplay ..................................David Stocker Executive Producer ...............Malcolm Smith Production Com pany.................... Jack Hume Synopsis: To show teachers the potential of a first rate resource centre in a primary school. Length .............................................20 minutes Gauge ...................................................... 16mm Sponsor................................... South Australia Department of Education PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS Screenplay ................................... Peter Keeble Executive Producer .................Malcolm Smith Production Com pany....... Production Centre Pty. Ltd. Synopsis: Aimed at students of 12-15 years. To stimulate discussion and awareness of roles in society. Length ..................................... 3 x 1 0 minutes Gauge ...................................................... 16mm Sponsor................................. South Australian Department of Education POLICE IN THE COMMUNITY S creenplay............................ Brenton Whittle, Murray George Executive Producer ........... Lesley Hammond Distribution Company ........................ S.A.F.C. Synopsis: Aimed at young people aged approximately 15-17 years. Shows the role and variety of the work of the police, with emphasis on the role they play every day In the com­ munity. Length .............................................. 20 minutes Gauge .......................................................16mm Sponsor .South Australian Police Department WATERBIRDS OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA Screenplay ...................................Kevin Brewer Executive Producer ........... Lesley Hammond Distribution Company ......................... S.A.F.C. Synopsis: Illustrates the effect on the waterbirds of South Australia by nature's constant changes to their environment. Length .............................................10 minutes Gauge ...................................................... 35mm S ponsor...............National Parks and Wildlife Department WHAT PUBLIC? WHAT SERVICE? Screenplay ................................. Russell Porter Executive Producer ........... Lesley Hammond Distribution Company ......................... S.A.F.C. Synopsis: To be used for in-service induction and orientation purposes within the South Australian Public Service. Demonstrates the opportunities for job variety, education and promotion, and encourages new recruits to take advantage of them. Length ............................................ 15 minutes Gauge ......................................................16mm Sponsor........................ Public Service Board, South Australia

FOOD FROM THE RELUCTANT EARTH Screenplay ..................................... David Tiley Executive Producer ......... . Lesley Hammond Distribution Company ........................S.A.F.C. Synopsis: Demonstrates the Ley dry-land farming system used in South Australia, and its results. Length ............................................ 20 minutes Gauge ......................................................16mm Sponsor.................Department of Agriculture INTEGRATION Screenplay ................................... Brian Bergin Executive Producer ...............Malcolm Smith Synopsis: To show that handicapped children would be better off integrated into a normal classroom. Length .......................................... 25 minutes Gauge ......................................................16mm Sponsor........... ..................... South Australian Department of Education

Above: Surrender in Paradise. Assistant Direc­ tor Toivo Lember, with lead actor, Errol O’Neil!.

Cinema Papers, March-April — 353

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Cinema Papers, March-April — 355


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William Thomas Barter was born in Parramatta in 1887, and died in 1965. His chosen trade was carpentry, but his exceptional­ ly bright and inventive mind was apparently not satisfied by it, and he turned his hand to spare­ time photography. With his large ThorntonPickard plate camera, Barter was a familiar sight around Parramatta and district. In January 1911, Parramatta’s first theatre, the Butterfly, was opened by H. A. Mains­ bridge. It was an open-air, tin-fronted structure with a brick floor and canvas walls. Barter became operator there with his friend, Wal Niddrie, as assistant. During those early days of suburban cinema, Parramatta had no fewer than five cinemas operating seven nights a week, with Saturday matinees. The Butterfly was graced with an orchestral accompaniment on Saturday nights, and a piano one during the week. Two Pathe “ Exhibition” projectors were installed with a Gaumont on stand-by. Power was supplied by gas engine and dynamo, a fairly common set-up in the suburbs at this time, and in June 1911a roof was added. There was no choice of films: you simply took what was sent you. Sadly, not one of Parramatta’s original cinemas has survived the years. The last to go was the Star, later Parramatta’s Cinema No. 1, and known prior to its demolition as the Rivoli. The early type of suburban cinema is now very difficult to find, although the Liverpool Butter­ fly De Luxe, also built by Mainsbridge, in 1911, is still standing and operating on the same site, and is possibly the oldest operative cinema in NSW. Around 1917, Bill Barter built a 35mm movie camera and at once proceeded to film local scenes, including the Parramatta steam trams. He also made several small comedy shorts (none of which remain today), which were then ex­ hibited at the Butterfly in appropriate time slots. However, Barter’s interest didn’t stop there. He felt comedies from overseas could be equalled, if not bettered, by local production, and so with Roy Baker as manager, Barter’s Parramatta Comedies was set up. Ted Niddrie (the famous acrobat and juggler ‘Eddie Dale’, and old schoolfriend of Barter), started work on a script, and ‘talent scouts’ were sent out for stars. They found two pretty girls from Pymble, Enid and Adelina Lofberg, to play the heroine and her sister; Ted’s stage partner Cliff Lucky, to play the villain Luke; Alf Weekes, to play Farmer Giles (the girls’ father); and various family and friends to act as supports and extras (which included the entire local Boy Scout troop). Opposite: Eddie Dale and Enid Lofberg as Willie and girl. Frame enlargements from surviving negative.

Using home-made exterior sets, the film was shot entirely in local backyards, as well as in Fairfield and Parramatta parks. Barter’s wife Agnes was at the camera, while Bill raced around shouting directions to the cast. Shouting was a necessity, for Barter’s camera still runs today, and is extremely noisy. As money allowed, film was bought from Kodak in lots of 400 ft, and filming took place over a 12-month period. In the meantime, Barter and Niddrie used home-made wooden develop­ ing tanks to process the film, and a home-made printer to strike the positive. The quality of the remaining negative testifies, at least, to efficient washing — something later Australian labs fell down badly on, much to the detriment of film restoration in later years. The two rolls of negative found in the original Kodak tins were complete with emulsion number and date. On February 28, 1919, the completed film was exhibited before the State Censorship Board, and was passed, subject to the deletion of 20 ft from reel three, which was considered “unduly vulgar” . The Under-Secretary’s report on March 3, 1919, stated that it was “an extremely poor production, both as to photography and plot” . Nevertheless, the Butterfly Theatre gave the film its one and only public season on May 29 and 30, 1919. The audience loved it. The piano tinkled away in the pit, the children squealed with delight, and Barter constantly crept from the box to gauge the public reaction, only to return grinning with satisfaction. This was it, he thought. Barter’s Parramatta Comedies would inevitably go on to bigger and better things. But not so. The potential backers kept their wallets folded, and the company dis­ appeared as fast as it had appeared. During this period Australian production was fast improving (The Sentimental Bloke was released the same year), and better quality American films continued to strengthen their grip on local markets. What chance was there for a small-time suburban company? Not much, as it happened. Bill Barter went on to make screen ads, in­ cluding one for Peter’s Ice Cream, and another for a brewery. Later, on the roof of the Cumberland Cafe, in Church St., Parramatta, he erected a daylight screen for his ads, but even­ tually replaced them with glass slides fed by an automatic still projector he had designed himself. He pre-dated Leica in his building of 35mm still cameras, but in spite of work on shutters, lenses, film advance mechanisms, and count less other technical aspect s of photography, he had surprisingly little contact with the Patents Office.

Barter offered to sell his film equipment to Niddrie, but without success. He subsequently returned to carpentry, and when sound arrived in 1929 was foreman on the enlargement of the Liverpool Butterfly De Luxe. In later years he was head carpenter with the Goodyear Tyre Company in Sydney, retiring in August 1951. Though what survives today of Will E Twist is crude, to say the least, the film, along with the existence of Barter’s company, has a definite place in the history of Australian cinema. The country and suburban producer is often overlooked and seldom documented. Many .country and suburban cinemas produced their own newsreels (hardly a weekly review), and the travelling camerman often recorded scenes of local interest to be later sold, or presented, to the Town Clerk3. Vague details have also come to light on Phillip Lytton’s production company, especially regarding his rumored production in 1914 of a “ Rudd Family” film at Castle Hill. Little survives of such work; time is our enemy, and nitrate deterioration waits for no one. So, when we think of the Australian film, we should spare consideration for those gallant and enterprising local producers such as Barter, whose output, save for a few hundred feet of fragile nitrate, has disappeared to dust, and whose efforts in the feature film industry,"though meagre, at least gave enjoyment to the residents of a NSW town for 30 comic minutes. SYNOPSIS (1), as submitted to the State Censorship Board on Feb. 22, 1919. “ At a country town, John Lade was a proprietor of the Local Dining Rooms. A small dramatic company arrived at the town, but their show was not a success, and the company was forced to break up: the leading man of the company obtained a position as waiter at the Dining Rooms, and was very much taken up with the proprietor’s daughter. A picnic is arranged in honor of the daughter’s birthday, and while swim­ ming, the girl’s father is saved from drowning by the leading man, who eventually receives consent to marry.” SYNOPSIS (2), as related by Wal Niddrie, Nov. 20, 1975. “ Willie (Eddie Dale) and Luke (Cliff Lucky), are both farmhands on Farmer Giles’ (Alf Weekes’) dairy farm. Both are in love with Giles' daughter (Enid Lofberg), but nasty Luke and his mate Slugger (Picker Nickles), are determined that Willie will not win her. At a picnic, Willie saved Enid’s grandfather (Ray Baker), from drowning in the lake, during a fight between Willie and Luke, which is broken up by the accident. Later Willie decides that he will win the girl, and he ‘twists’ to get his way. In the final scenes (intact in the surviving negative), Luke and Slugger are caught by the boy scouts, and after ducking in the river (Parramatta Weir), are hustled off in a spring cart, leaving the hero Willie and his girl happy ever after. APPENDIX Original length: 3000 ft. Surviving: 500 ft; negative. Release print: apart from a few title frames and very short excerpts, the positive is non-existent. Advertising: Original poster ex­ tant. Camera: Extant and operable. S to r y ...................... Written by Ted Niddrie (Eddie Dale). Titles written by Ted Niddrie; photographed by Bill Barter. Producer and D irector.......................................................BillBarter. C am era............................................................................ AgnesBarter. Manager, Barter’s Parramatta Comedies . . . . Roy Baker. Cast: Farmer Giles............................................ Alf Weekes D aughter.................................................................EnidLofberg 2nd daughter......................................Adelina Lofberg Mrs. G iles..................................................Mrs. Fuller W illie......................................................... Eddie Dale L u k e.......................................................... Cliff Lucky Slugger..................................................................PickerNickles Grandfather................................................ Roy Baker Exhibited: Parramatta Butterfly Theatre, May 29 and 30, 1919. Merrylands Theatre, 1919, ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Ken Barter, Louise Little, Reg Niddrie, Ted Niddrie (jnr), Wal Niddrie, George Baker, Parramatta District Historical Society, Bill Card, Graham Shirley, Ross Cooper, Gwen Gledhill and Tom Barter. +

1. A committee member of the Association for a National Film and Television Archive. 2. The title actually means “Will Willie Twist?” . 3. Unedited footage entitled “ Who’s Who in Scone” , recently presented to the National Library, is a case in point.

Cinema Papers, March-April — 357





The lean, mean 30 s, when America keep from crying !

The mad world of Hollywood In its heyday... G-Men and Dillinger... the silver screen and breadlines... movie stars and millionaires... ' the laughing, crying, never-to-be-forgotten 30's!

B rillia n t... captures w ith mishing fidelity, the vitality and vulgarity of the 30's." -WASHINGTON POST

srcLLBinome ! - C H A R L E S C H A M P I I N . L A .T IM ES

It was the decade when America escaped the blues^gpr with



k 'X

&1975, by Dim ension Pictures, Inc.






Jan Dawson S u rv iv in g th e t r a n s i t i o n from Czechoslovakia to the U.S., Milos Forman’s special gifts as a director have hitherto lain in his ability to turn every disaster into a genial social event, and every formal celebration into pure theatre of e m ­ barrassment. The rather dour cynicism with which he showed up each pimple, dental brace and flat note in the opening auditions of T a k in g O ff, each false step, roll of fat and frustrated wish in T h e F irem en ’s B all, was balanced by the bemused affection with which he charted the yo-yo mechanism of his characters’ ups-and-downs. The fact that their every aspiration doom­ ed them to fall, or pratfall, contained within it no potential for tragedy. Their single com­ mon, and dominant, characteristic was irrepressibility — the inability to com­ prehend that “ no” could ever constitute a final answer. And the acquiescent irony in which Forman engulfed them allowed no place for either major heroics or minor characters. On the face of it, his singular qualities make him an unlikely choice to direct the film of One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, for Ken Kesey’s 1962 novel lends itself easily to allegorical interpretations. Its hero, McMurphy, a former lumberjack, gambling man and convict, is a larger-than-life figure who, to avoid hard work, simulates insanity and gets himself transferred from a prison farm to a mental hospital. There he incites the other patients to show for the hospital’s regulations and tidy time-tables the same contempt he has himself shown for social conventions outside. The ward to which M cM urphy is allocated is tyrannized by one Big Nurse — ample bosom encased in white starched ar­ mor, electrocuting hands in soft surgical gloves. Kesey makes her a symbol of America’s castrating matriarchy, and the b a tt le for pow er betw een her and McMurphy is soon an overtly sexual one. He arranges for the expert defloration of a retarded 30-year-old; she shames the boy into cutting his throat; he retaliates by attempting to rape and strangle her. At which point punitive surgery is enlisted in the cause of asexuality, and McMurphy is lobotomized. He dies, but his virile myth survives him and Big Nurse gets hers. A hero of superhuman proportions restor­ ing self-respect and individuality to a group of faceless and defeated outcasts; a symbolic conflict between good and evil; human eccentricity observed in the formally eccentric setting of a mental hospital; the Kafkan nightmare of the sane man trapped in an insane asylum; even (to some) a political allegory of the anti-authoritarian revolt that swept across the U.S. in the six­ ties: none of these marks out Cuckoo's Nest as likely Forman territory. And to a large extent, Forman himself seems aware of this. Even while protesting his unstinted ad­ miration for the book, he expresses his dis­ like for, and suspicion of, allegory. So, one of his most drastic changes has been to tone down the qualities of Kesey’s gargantuan op­ ponents. His Big Nurse — soft-skinned, petite and played on a saccharine monotone by Louise Fletcher (the actress whom Altman coaxed out of early retirement for T hieves L ik e U s) — kills more patients with

America's castrating matriarch, Big Nurse (Louise Fletcher), shames Billie (Brad Dourif) into slashing his throat. Milos Forman's One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.

kindness than with electroshocks. Her sin is but a painful sincerity, contrasting sharply with McMurphy’s reckless bravado. Then too, many of the novel’s excesses are ‘explicable’ in terms of its narrative perspec­ tive: that of a schizophrenic Indian who for several years has passed himself off as a deaf mute. But Forman is adamant: “ I hate gim­ micks like flashbacks and distorting lenses, which are what I’d have had to use if I’d taken the Indian’s point-of-view. . . . The book jumps around all over the place because the Indian’s mind works that way. On film, this would look ridiculous.” So, he has opted instead for a conven­ tional episodic structure and a camera which espouses the viewpoint o f ‘objective reality’. Strengthening both the film’s pretension to realism and his desire to steer us away from reading it as a ‘Political Statement’ (with the patients as ciphers for the ‘American Experience’), Forman has set it in a grimly authentic location — a vacated floor of the Oregon State Hospital in Salem. He has even gone so far as to cast the hospital’s real-life superintendent as the film’s head psychiatrist, involving some 15 patients in front of the cameras and 100 in the production as a whole. In the event, the film of the filming — the ‘insane' watching the ‘sane’ playing at madmen — might have proved a richer sub­ ject for Forman’s directorial talents. His negative ambitions are successfully realized: his film avoids allegory, political message or distorting subjectivity: yet it finds nothing substantial to put in their place. The screenplay (by Lawrence Hauben and Bo

Goldman) is faithful to the external events of the novel, yet fails, almost wilfully, to cap­ ture their spirit. The epic intensity of McMurphy’s increasingly disruptive es­ capades seems merely an excess of schoolboy high spirits, with the film es­ calating from one dormitory prank to the next in a manner more appropriate to the serialized adventures of Billy Bunter than to the goings-on in a State asylum. Form an himself is uninterested in technical differences between sane and in­ sane, and is more inclined to deflect the question than to refute it with Laingian arguments. (“ Who’s sane? Who’s insane? When I was growing up in Czechoslovakia and the Russians were invading, there were people who ran into the streets with brooms looking to fight the Russian soliders with their tanks. And the people huddled in the cellars of their homes looked at them and called them crazy. Six months later, they were calling them heroes.” ) Yet with nurses and patients benignly presented as examples of self-deluding humanity, there is nothing to prepare us for the sudden psychotic outbursts of his lovable loonies, or for the apparently savage surgical reprisals of their gentle keepers. The realistic representation of electro­ shock treatment has no place in an ebullient comedy of hospital manners. It unbalances Forman’s world as surely as does Jack Nicholson's stellar McMurphy — a bravura performance out of tune with the hysterical naturalism for which the other inmates strive. Perhaps the greatest indictm ent of

N est is that its actors laugh louder than the audience. The dramatic con­ flict between its two central characters has been unsatisfactorily replaced by a mere clash of styles — between the realism of sets, symptoms and surgery, and the far-fetched and highly-structured artifices of the plot. Copyright Jan Dawson 1975.

C u c k o o ’s

ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST. Directed by Milos Foreman. Distributed by UA. Produced by Saul Zaentz and Michael Douglas. Associate Producer, Martin Fink. Screenplay by Lawrence Hauben and Bo Goldman. Based on the novel by Ken Kesey. Production Company, Fan­ tasy Films. Director of Photography, Haskell Wexler ASC. Additional Photography by Bill Butler ASC. Edited by Richard Chew. Original music by Jack Nilzsche. Art Direction by Edwin O'Donovan. Sound by Lawrence Jost. Players: Jack Nicholson, Louise Fletcher, William Redfield, Michael Berryman, Peter Brocco, Dean R. Brooks, Alonzo Brown, Scatman Crothers, Mwako Cumbuka, Danny De Vito, William Duell. Josip Elic, Brad Dourif. Length 130 min. U.S. 1975.

M A N D IN G O Tom Ryan I have yet to come across a kind word in print about M andingo. Like much of direc­ tor Richard Fleischer’s previous work, it has been greeted with an unmitigated critical scorn. And the basis for this contempt appears to be the sensationalist aspect of the subject matter towards which Fleischer has been drawn.

Cinema Papers, March-April — 359


In a world where the value of human life is minimal, Falconhurst’s heir, Hammond (Perry King), bids farewell to the auctioned-off slaves. Mandingo. H is film s are full o f violent m en w ho c a n ­ not be co n tain ed by any social stru c tu re , w h eth er they a re th e m ystic figures o f T he V ikings (1958) an d T h e G rim es G ang (1974), th e crim in als, m u rd erers o r p sy ch o p ath s of V iolent S a tu rd a y (1955), C om pulsion (1959), C ra c k In T h e M irro r (I9 6 0 ), T he Boston S tra n g le r (1968) an d 10 R iliington P la c e ( 1971), o r th e law en fo rcers in T he New C en­ tu rio n s (1972). T h e recu rren ce o f sp e ctacu lar violence an d b lo od-chilling m u rd e r th ro u g h o u t these film s c reates a w orld in which the value o f h u m an life is m in im al, and from w hich the d ay -to -d ay ro u tin e o f ‘n o rm a l’ existence is en tirely ab sen t. A nd while this is clearly the so rt o f m a te ria l w hich d raw s p a tro n s to the box-office an d n ew sp ap er sta n d s, it is not too h ard to h a zard a guess as to why m ost critics have had little tim e for it. I m ust confess th a t I hold no b rie f for these film s — w ith th e exception o f T he V ikings, 10 R iliington P la c e an d th e earlier T h e N arro w M a rg in (1952). I f it w ere possi­ b le to p ro b e b e n e a th th e sp e c ta c le in F leisch er’s w ork to find a co n sisten t stru c ­ tu rin g o f th e m a tic co n cern s, assum ing th a t a u te rist en d eav o r w ould be o f som e use in illu m in a tin g th em , th en it seem s to m e scarcely w o rth th e effo rt. N ev erth eless, it is im p o rta n t th a t th e co m p eten ce w hich ex­ h ib its itself, even in a film as ro u tin e as M r M a je sty k (1975), o u g h t n o t to go un n o ticed .

360 — Cinema Papers, March-April

F leischer’s film s consistently engender both a visual and n a rra tiv e excitem ent w hich, if they lack the stylistic com plexity and th e resonance o f perspective th a t one can find in P e c k in p a h ’s w ork — which has m uch in co m m o n w ith F leischer’s — still m an ag e to keep the viewer on the edge o f his seat. O n the surface, M andingo a p p ears to belong with its tu rb u le n t predecessors. S et in L ouisiana in 1840, its elem ents o f violence, sex an d racism w ould seem to m ak e it the d e lig h t o f a n y a d v e r t i s i n g c a m p a ig n . C u rio u sly , it is being p rim a rily sold as “ in th e tra d itio n o f G one W ith T he W ind” , w hich it is n o t, for th e S o u th th a t it depicts is as far from the ro m an ce o f S elzn ick ’s p ro d u ctio n as it could possibly be. T he film opens on th e lush green vegeta­ tion su rro u n d in g an ill-kept m an sio n , before the red titles v irtually bleed on to th e screen. W h a t follow s is an e x tra o rd in a rily com plex d epiction o f h u m an ity in ru in s, to w hich a review o f this length can scarcely do the ju stic e it deserves. T his becom es clearer once one reaches beyond the superficial response to the form o f the m elo d ram a; one which tak es its d ra m a and its violence all th e w ay, co n ­ fronting its audience in a m an n er th a t it m ig h t n o t h av e e x p e c te d a n d , Finally, assum ing p ro p o rtio n s th a t are nigh on tragic.

In c o n tra st w ith F leischer’s earlier film s, the c h a ra c te rs here a re co n tain ed by a rigid social stru c tu re , one in which racism is a norm and in which both w hite an d black are im prisoned w ithin set p a tte rn s o f behav io r and ex p ectatio n s. B rutality is a social ritu a l, affecting b o th body and soul, an d b lack su b m its to it as readily as w hite ad m in isters it. T h e im pu lse to h u m an ity o f those w ho su b m it is negated; and those w ho oppose are d estro y ed . W h a t is rem a rk a b le in M andingo is th e perspective we a re offered on this situ atio n , o u r sy m ­ p ath y being placed as m uch on th e side o f th e b ru taliz ers as th e b ru taliz ed , to th e p o in t w here we recognize th a t M uddy W a te rs’ in­ to n a tio n s on th e so u n d tra c k (“ I w as b o rn in this tim e /T o never b e free” ) ap p ly as equ ally to w hite, as to black. W arren M axw ell (Ja m e s M ason), ru ler o f F alco n h u rst, prides in his slave-breeding as any m an does in a profession he enjoys. H e is con cern ed th a t his kingdom be carrie d on by th o se o f his seed, an d urges his son H a m ­ m ond (P e rry King), to ensure this. T h e re is no an im o sity in his a ttitu d e to his slaves, an d though we can see th a t his affectio n for th em is as objects, tra p p e d inescapably in his ideological assu m p tio n s and th eir a tte n d a n t su p e rstitio n s, he can n o t. T he w orld to w hich he belongs is an incestuous one (th ere are n u m ero u s references, b o th im p licit an d ex­ plicit, to incest); w here c h a ra c te rs feed on

o th ers o f th eir kind an d on th e c o rru p t tra d i­ tion which has created them . H a m m o n d is p re s e n te d a lm o s t as a H a m le t figure: on on e level a w a re o f th e co r­ ru p tio n th a t su rro u n d s him , b u t u n ab le to act on th a t aw areness. S o m ew h at iro n ically , he is th e film ’s m ajo r d estru ctiv e force, settin g in m o tio n th e chain o f events w hich b rin g F a lc o n h u r s t d o w n a r o u n d h im . In itia te d in to his relatio n sh ip w ith Ellen ( B r e n d a S y k e s ) in t h e c o n t e x t o f “ w enching” , he can n o t co m e to te rm s with the im p licatio n s o f th e ten d ern ess th ey sh a re (b eau tifu lly evo k ed in th e ir tw o c e n tra l love scenes) an d , in th e m o m en t o f crisis n e a r th e e n d , he r e tr e a ts to th e sa fe ty o f his F a lco n h u rst e d u catio n , b ru tally rejecting her: “ D o n ’t th in k ’cau se you can g et in m y bed, y o u ’re a n y th in g b u t a n ig g er” . S im ila rly , he can n o t conceive o f his co n ­ ta c t w ith th e p rize M a n d in g o M ed e (K en N o rto n ), as a n y th in g o th e r th a n th a t o f a m a ste r to his slave, in sp ite o f th e ir m u tu al affectio n (th e sa m e ap p ly in g to M ed e in reverse). In his relatio n sh ip w ith his wife B lanche ( S u s a n G e o r g e ) , H a m m o n d ’s l e a r n e d d o u b le s ta n d a rd s ag ain d e m o n s tra te his d estru ctiv en ess as he rejects her sexually after disco v erin g she w as n o t a virgin a t m a rria g e . A n d w hen sh e seduces M ede, th e c o n s e q u e n t h a lf -c a s te c h ild allo w e d to die a t b irth , is th e stim u lu s to th e final



The dream-child moving through a land of wonders wild and new, in which only the sound of a civil war can disturb the quiet of a fairytale. Black Moon.

havoc. Yet the destruction which Hammond un­ comprehendingly invokes does, within the conventions of narrative closure, wrench the future from the pattern of the past. Falconhurst has been wiped out, and while the audience can recognize that this has been both a necessary and logical outcome of the drama, the personal cost has been great. As the past, embodied in Maxwell, lies dead in the foreground of the film’s last frame, Hammond, through whom the future has still to be seen, slumps bewildered and without direction deeper into the image. It is a disturbing climax that allows for no simple response, and in it lies the clue to why M an d in g o is the most exciting film to come from the U.S. in the last year.


MANDINGO. Directed by Richard Fleischer. Distributed by C1C. Produced by Dino De Lauren­ tiis. Screenplay by Norman Wexler. Based on the novel by Kyle Onstott and the play by Jack Kirkland. Director of Photography, Richard H. Kline. Edited by Frank Bracht. Music by Maurice Jarre. Set Decoration by John Austin. Sound by William Randell. Players: James Mason, Susan George, Perry King, Richard Ward, Brenda Sykes, Ken Norton, Lillian Flayman, Roy Poole, Ji-Tu Cumbaka. Technicolor. Length 126 min. U.S. 1975.

BLACK M O O N * Jan Dawson “ If I wasn’t real,” said Alice — half laughing through her tears, it all seemed so ridiculous — “ I shouldn’t be able to cry.” “ I hope you don’t suppose those are real tears?” Tweedledum interrupted in a tone of great contempt. (from Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll) The first impact of B lack M oon is of Alice in Wonderland revisited by the Ingmar Bergman of T h e S h am e. On. the one hand, there’s “ The dream-child moving through a land/Of wonders wild and new, /In friendly chat with bird or beast . . the adult who ‘ Premiered Perth Film Festival 1975.

shrinks to infancy; the picture which comes to life; the talking flora and fauna; and, at the stubborn centre, a blonde child-woman who asks a lot of nosey questions and attempts, to apply to a differently ordered

universe the cut-and-dried logical rules tran­ sported from her own. On the other, there’s the background of a raging civil war (this one to the death, between men and women); the theme of escape from it, and of escape as

a journey of discovery — all of them bound together by Sven Nykvist’s breathtaking camerawork, which bestows a separate, dis­ tinct identity on every blade of grass, each leg of the millipede, and which can abruptly turn the rosiest corner of an amber-stone^ country mansion into a seat of Gothick horror. But unlike Alice, Louis Malle’s dreamchild does not wake up; or rather, she no sooner wakes up from one dream (of children, heavily laden with jewels and make-up, performing Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde) and finds a rational explanation for it in the details of a picture on the wall, than the dream and picture prove equally prophetic, a premature reflection of the next ‘reality’. Far from returning, at the end of the film, to whatever world she left behind in her little yellow Honda, she has moved deeper into the alternative reality at the end of her paranoid odyssey, at best, perhaps, moving round one or two more places at the Mad Hatter’s tea party, so that it’s now her turn t'o pour. Nor is it a simple case of transference, of exchanging the old world for the new, for Malle scrupulously eschews all those tired ‘explanatory’ devices which make the sur­ real acceptable to the troubled bourgeois sensitivity. In the old lady’s room where the pratfalling dream-child spends much of her time, there’s a moment where the two adja­ cent windows reveal dissimilar views: through one, the war-wounded, bloodied and begrimed; through the other, naked children frolicking. Throughout the film, there’s the unforced suggestion that reality is merely the particular window you look through; and also a question of how you look through it. The suggestion that good and evil lie resolutely in the mind of the beholder (the snake which terrifies the girl when — fearful in a hostile, anthropocentric universe — she finds it under a stone, is later welcomed into her bed). The suggestion that all things are simultaneously present (front-line news from the Trojan War transmitted by short-wave radio). If all realities are co-existent, and visible, the all-seeing few spend their consciousness “yearning for the eternal blindness” , know­ ing for certain that, if everything is real, “ all is illusion” . The catechism for the new nir­ vana is recited in another short-wave trans­ mission but, characteristically, the bemused heroine falls asleep before the message is clear. On one level then, B lack M oon is the film Malle might have been expected to make at the time of his stay in India: indeed, it could even be read as a belated dip into the mud­ died waters of hippie mysticism, about which — in the Indian films — he expressed a cer­ tain scepticism. Yet looked at more closely, B lack M oon becomes not a contradiction of P h an to m India, but rather a transposition, from fact to fairytale, of its themes; the alien intruder tempted to explain an unfamiliar society according to his/her received sen­ sibilities and constantly confused in his attempts to append meanings to signs. “ What we see as spectacle is in fact a ceremony” . The warning which Malle repeated to himself from Calcutta to Bombay also holds true for the reviewer from one end of B lack M o o n to the other. The scenario weaves enough tempting patterns for any aspiring theorist (it would even be possible to view the relationship between the girl and the unicorn as the latest of the socially unacceptable liaisons central to nearly all Malle’s previous fiction films), but the patterns belong to the reconstruction of the film, rather than to the experience of it. The latter is of a spell-binding con­ creteness, with humor and horror Finely balanced to create a wide-eyed suspense. Meaning is kept at bay — along with its twin demon, ‘message’ — and the fear and ten­ sions of entering an alien universe built up by the audacious device of having the first 20

Cinema Papers, March-April — 361


minutes without dialogue, unless one counts the audible sighing of the flowers, or the scrambled words from the car radio where a doom-laden monotone preaches about “the crime and vice that have been committed in the large cities of the w orld” . The strangeness of the long and wordless opening chase is soon compounded by the bizarre balance of the post-synchronized sound, on which every animal cry, rustle of leaf or snap of twig is so amplified as to assume a domi­ nant role. Even when the hunt’s prey, the illmannered dream-child, reaches the sanctuary of the big country house, its comforts prove more anthropomorphic than human: a kitten treading the piano keys, a pig in a high-chair awaiting its glass of milk, a petulant rat, Humphrey, who chatters in squeaky English. The English spoken by Humphrey’s bedridden owner (the late Therese Giehse, the grandmother from L aeom be L ucien) is produced with more gasps and snorts than are heard from any of the friendly pigs; while the house’s other adult occupants, the liedersinging gardener (Joe Dalessandro) and his sister Lily (Alexandra Stewart) eschew speech entirely and converse through their fingertips. Apart from the sullen heroine, only the unicorn speaks in plain, oldfashioned English, and he only visits every 154 years. Perhaps a part of the joke is that the setting for this unfamiliar world is Malle’s own home, with some of the more eccentric happenings taking place in and around Malle’s own bed. Yet inseparable from the jokey surface is the countryman’s sense of n a t u r e ’s s u p e r i o r i t y o v e r u r b a n development, and his awareness of the extent to which the animals, birds and insects out­ number us frail humans. In the what-if world beyond the looking glass, amid the wishful fantasies (children suckling their parents back to life), we are given a poetic glimpse of what life might be like if man could adapt and assume a different place in nature, if he could lie down with both lion and lamb. The automated world outside is characterized by dirt, noise and bloodshed; inside the magic domain, all forms of life are equally sacred. Which is why, perhaps, brother and sister, after killing the eagle, are cast outside the grounds to join in the war to the death. Astrologically, the black moon signifies the period of chaos which precedes some cataclysmic change and the emergence of a new order. Malle’s B lack M oon conjures up both the chaos and the nature of the change to come. It is also a masterpiece of sur­ realism, exquisite, witty, poetic and concise; gradually, skilfully, it imposes its own logic on us. “ Well, now that we have seen each other,” said the Unicorn, “ if you’ll believe in me, I’ll believe in you.” (L. Carroll). Copyright Jan Dawson 1975 BLACK MOON. Directed by Louis Malle. Production Company, Nouvelles Editions de Films. Produced by Claude Nedjar. Screenplay by Malle, with.collaboration by Ghislain Uhry and Joyce Bunuel. Director of Photography, Sven Nykvist. Edited by Suzanne Baron. Music by Diego Masson. Art Direction by Ghislain Uhry. Players: Cathryn Harrison, Therese Giehse, Alex­ andra Stewart, Joe Daiicsandro. Eastmancolor. Length 84 min. France 1975.

LOVE AND DEATH John C. Murray No one in his right mind should try to summarize the nature of Woody Allen’s humor, but two quotations from a collection of his writings called Getting Even come closer to the two main comic threads in Love and D eath . The foreword to the book notes that Allen’s one regret in life is that he is not someone else; and an aphorism in an essay “ My Philosophy” states: “ Not only is there

362 — Cinema Papers, March-April


Movie’s end: Grushenko (Woody Allen), a victim of the lying angel, waltzing off in the footsteps of the Grim Reaper. Love and Death.

no God, but try getting a plumber on weekends” . In other words, Love and D eath brings us, yet again, Woody Allen as the eternal loser, dogged on one side by physical and social ineptness, and on the other by a mentality whose aspirations are anchored down by a tangle of urban neuroses. The sprawling plot-line of Love and D eath, almost libellously based on War and Peace, allows Allen maximum elbow-room for these two modes of humor.' There are, for example, the near slapstick segments where Allen as the cowardly Boris Grushenko, un­ willingly drafted into the Czar’s army, goes through his basic training and shows a limitless incapacity to do a right turn, hold a musket, or even keep his helmet on when moving at anything faster than a slow walk. Grushenko’s fumbling efforts to clean his musket and present it for inspection culminate in every part of the weapon falling off, leaving only a decidedly unadorned barrel bravely held up for examination. And later in the film, in much the same Sad Sack vein, G ru sh enk o’s ceremonial sword manages to goose every woman in touching distance as he tosses off courtly bows during a Mozart concert intermission. But funny though these sequences are, and thoroughly in keeping with the physically spastic persona Allen projects, he and the film are at their best when it is Grushenko’s intellectual pretensions (and the pretensions of intellectualism in general) that are parodied. Love and D e a th abounds in moments of this sort. Given the slightest oc­ casion, Grushenko and Sonja (Diane Keaton) soar off into the headiest reaches of philosophical paradox (“ Is knowledge knowable? If not, how do we know this?” ), matching ontologies and epistemologies to the point of utter and mutual confusion. Having witnessed a leaden sex-hygiene playlet put on for his squad before they all go on leave (a playlet remarkable for its total absence of information), Grushenko is asked by a fellow trooper what he thought of it and Allen launches into a perfect parody of the literary magazine review: “ . . . a droll little pastiche which strikes just the right balance between the head and the h e a rt. . .” . While generally more aural than visual in fo r m , the la n c in g of i n t e l l e c t u a l gamesmanship takes in a number of very clever, even inspired, cinematic parodies, with Eisenstein, Chaplin and Bergman all getting guernseys. A Seventh S eal Death figure makes recurrent appearances (“ Hey look — there’s Death!” ) and the film ends

with Grushenko waltzing off in the footsteps of the Grim Reaper. At one point an earnest meaning-of-life colloquy terminates with a reproduction of P e rso n a ’s two-heads-composed-as-one; but possibly the neatest allu­ sion is to P otem kin: Allen intercuts a cycle of shots which harks back to the “ roused lion” moment in the Odessa Steps sequence, but in this case the intercutting occurs at the end of a seduction scene, and the stone lion passes from a nobly erect stance to a posture of dead-beat exhaustion. The humor wanders further afield than on just these two broad paths, however, ranging from the Goonish to the ethnic-Jewish. Grushenko’s father (faithful to literary tradition) is the proud owner of small plot of land, and small it is — about six inches square. Grushenko and Sonja, forced by hardship into domestic economies, feast on a meal made wholly of snow; and Grushenko’s irritation that the snow-steak has been over­ cooked disappears when Sonja tells him there’s sleet for dessert. Grushenko remarks that a close friend of his was bayoneted to death by a Polish conscientious objector and that another was executed by being made to inhale deeply while standing next to an Armenian. The young Grushenko, having asked his mentor about these Jews he’s been hearing so much of, is surreptitiously shown some sketches. Marvelling that they have horns, the lad is told that it’s only Russian Jews who look like that: you can pick the others by their stripes. Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of Love and D eath is the way in which the film is kept under control. In contrast to, say, M onty P ython and the H oly G rail, where the gags are almost unrelievedly ad hoc, Love and D eath possesses a manic internal logic, due no doubt to the strength and definition lent by Woody Allen’s presence in the film as well as his writing and direction o f the film. The humor either emanates from him or from the perspectives that Allen as writer/director imposes on the organization. As a notable instance of this, Diane Keaton is given a much heavier comic burden to carry than has been the case in earlier Allen films, yet her playing of Sonja (as written and directed) is wholly in tune with Allen’s Grushenko, not only offering an excellent foil for him, but also sustaining the comic momentum when she is on screen apart from him. Indeed all the roles in Love and D eath , whether central or cameo, like Harold Gould’s, function as different sorts of projec­ tions of Woody Allen’s self-inflating or self­

deceiving loser. If it isn’t too pompous to ex­ press it this way, every element, character and situation in Love and D eath is consistent with Allen’s sardonic comic vision. There are only two reservations that might be held about the film. The first is that, inevitably, not all the gags work with equal success. Often one sees the point of a joke without actually responding to it, as perhaps when Grushenko, having decided to give his life to poetry, pens what are in fact some lines from The Waste Land and then judges them to be much too sentimental. As a type of joke it fits the way the film is working, but it fails to amuse as effectively as most of the other intellectual gags do. Yet one ought not to be surprised that in a film which scatters aural and visual jokes around like buckshot, not all of them strike the target. The other point — an arguable one — is that Woody Allen’s humor has the potential to be touching; to have a shade of melancho­ ly to it. Without lapsing into indulgence, it can draw us towards the Allen persona if only for a moment or two. But to achieve this there needs to be a certain narrative rigor; one which builds on conflict or crisis situations in some degree familiar to us out there in the audience. P lay It A gain, S am had this characteristic, for, while never los­ ing its sardonic edge, it gave Woody’s Allan Felix a dimension and an interest missing from Love a n d D e a t h , where Boris Grushenko is a more distanced creation. But maybe this is simply a roundabout way of wishing that Woody Allen’s picture of how the world is, was less tough—even less cruel — than Love and D eath suggests it has become. After all, Grushenko cheerfully faces a firing squad at the end of the film, trusting the angel who promised him that he would be reprieved before the order to fire was given. But the angel was a liar and Boris is gunned down neatly, efficiently, and un­ mourned.

LOVE AND DEATH. Directed by Woody Allen. Distributed by UA. Produced by Charles H. Joffe. Executive Producer, Martin Poll. Production Company, Jack Rollins and Charles H. Joffe Productions. Screenplay by Woody Allen. Direc­ tor of Photography, Ghislain Cloquet. Edited by Ralph Rosenblum. Music by S. Prokofiev. Art Direction by Willy Holt. Sound by Daniel Brisseau. Players: Woody Allen, Diane Keaton, Georges Adel, Frank Adu, Feodor Atkine, Yves Barsacq, Lloyd Battista, Harold Gould. Deluxe Color. Length 85 min. U.S. 1975.


B AR R Y L Y N D O N Jack Clancy After the mystification of 2001: A S p a c e O d y ssey , and the confusions of A C lockw ork O ran g e, Stanley Kubrick seems to have staked everything in his latest epic on an ex­ cess of simplicity. B arry L yndon, the whole three hours of it, has barely a moment of ambiguity, hardly a scene which fails to give up its meaning at the first glance, just as it has hardly a scene which is not, in purely pic­ torial terms, utterly ravishing; hardly a frame in which the attention to detail is not attended to with awesome thoroughness. After three trips to the future (if one in­ cludes D r S tran g elo v e), Kubrick has return­ ed to the re-creation of the past — a re­ creation which his directorial independence has enabled him to carry out with a total authenticity that was impossible on S p arta c u s. His eighteenth century world of land­ scapes, houses, manners, clothes, make-up and light, emerges with all the more force for being free of the leftist banalities which Trumbo’s script inflicted on the Roman world of Spartacus. But the most immediate of the many questions we are left with, after the ex­ perience of the film, concerns the choice of this subject in the first place, and the questions which follow — questions which are central to the issue of Kubrick’s place in film history—are related to the same problem. For the ambitiousness —■ if not pretentiousness—of Kubrick’s projects over the past decade constitute a claim to greatness, the validity of which may well be tested by a verdict on B arry L yndon. Thematically, the appeal of this first novel

of Thackeray to Kubrick is fairly clear. The picaresque hero, Barry Lyndon, is a solitary voyager, a gentleman, and not so much a rogue as an amoral striver. In a world where feeling is subservient to the most immediate pressures of money and position, and their consequence, power, where wars are fought brutally, clumsily and stupidly for ends that are at best elusive or confused, at worst callous and venal, and where life-and-death duels settle points of illusory honor, there is scope enough for the bleak pessimism which has marked most of Kubrick’s work so far. And the further attraction of the Thackeray novel must surely have been the possibilities of a purely cinematic exploitation of a novelistic character whose lack of self­ knowledge, and capacity for self-deception, must emerge for the audience by slow revelation. If B arry Lyndon represents an advance, in anything more than mastery of technique for Kubrick, it is precisely in his attempt to close the gap between the novel’s and the film’s capacities to force audiences to reflect creatively on a hero with whom they are at first encouraged to identify. But the choice of the Thackeray novel brings temptations which the film has not avoided. And the definitive summing up of Thackeray by Leavis — “ nothing has been done by the close to justify the space taken” — is a pointer to a great deal of what is wrong with Kubrick’s film. In particular, two things are wrong with it — what is being done and how it is done. To take the “ how” first, one can only say that in spite of the extraordinary visual qualities already referred to — there are miracles of lighting, composition, at­ mosphere, behavioral truth (consider for ex­ ample the superb portraits of two of the Chevalier's opponents at the gambling table)

Barry Lyndon, a world where feeling is subservient to power, where wars are fought brutally and clumsily

for, at best, elusive or confused ends.

Patrick Magee as the Chevalier in one of the film’s gambling scenes — a masterpiece of lighting, composi­ tion and behavioral truth.

and of dramatic intensity (the climactic out­ burst by Lord Bullingdon and the subse­ quent brawl which disrupt the musical recital, or Barry’s duel with Bullingdon, his stepson, or Barry’s deliberate taunting of Lord Lyndon, literally, to death) — there are hugely slow passages where the film is swamped by indulgent pictorialism. The first half-hour is slow at the first viewing; at the second, it is agonisingly so; the pictures are beautiful, but they are so barely moving pictures that one sighs for the crowded energetic montage of, say, the first five minutes of almost any Raoul Walsh film you care to name. The “ space taken” is very large indeed, and all of the pictorial delights that suggest deliberate copies of Gainsborough, Hogarth or de la Tour are no substitute for cinematic movement. Kubrick admittedly gets remarkable performances from his cast, (though Ryan O’Neal is another example of his tendency to miscast), and there are memorable achievements by, among many others, Patrick Magee as the Chevalier, Leonard Rossiter as Captain Quinn and Murray Melvin as Chaplain Runt. But the final judgment on a film which sodirectly demands an evaluative response is on “what” it finally presents or reveals, the nature of its particular truth about life. Barry Lyndon’s defeat, representing most obviously the triumph of money and power over feeling (compare the opening scene of his sensuous dallying with his cousin, with the closing scene of three solemn, dim figures attending to the financial affairs of the house of Lyndon) would have been the stronger, though not much less obviously banal, had Kubrick been able to present us with some sense of his hero’s engagement with life. But, beyond the strength of Lyn­

don’s love for his son, and his physical courage, there is not enough there that we can be interested in. The voice-over commentary takes care to distance us from feeling (Kubrick, whose script it is, follows the rules of the novel rather than the cinema by having the narrator tell us in advance of such things as the death of Barry’s son), so that we get neither the cinematic experience of our hero s tragedy, nor the richness of a novelistic presentation of it. It remains bound to the form of the picaresque novel, and does nothing to solve the film-novel problem. Anyway, the final word on this was surely uttered by Alain Resnais: “ I would not want to shoot an adaptation of a novel, because I think the writer has completely expressed himself in the novel and that wanting to make a film of it is a little like re-heating a meal.” B arry Lyndon remains then a visually beautiful, but frozen excursion — a lavishing of extraordinary, creative talents on a patent attempt to create a classic. But in spite of the richness of detail, and the immense rewards of its particular moments, there is a bitter emptiness about its final effect. Its humorless solemnity (has anyone remarked on how humorless a director Kubrick is, most disastrously in L olita?) reflects a solip­ sism, a narcissism which no amount of care can conceal. BARRY LYNDON. Directed, produced and adapted by Stanley Kubrick from the novel by William Makepeace Thackeray. Director of Photography, John Alcott. Music, Leonard Rosenman. Players: Ryan O’Neal, Marisa Berenson, Patrick Magee, Hardy Kruger, Gay Hamilton. Metrocolor. Length 184 min. Britain 1975.

Ryan O’Neal as Barry Lyndon, the solitary voyager, gentleman and amoral striver. And Diana Koerner as the German girl he dallies with.

The brawl subsequent to Lord Bullingdon’s climactic outburst at the musical recital.

Cinema Papers, March-April — 363

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T h e T r e s p a s s e r s is a film about relationships and per­ sonal politics. Richard (John Derum), a journalist, and Penny (Briony Behets) live together, but when they become involved with Dee (Judy Morris) their precarious relationship is threatened. The film follows a period of fluctuating warmth and distance, closeness and conflict, between the three — a period which demands of each a deep personal re-assessment. T h e T r e s p a s s e r s is photographed by award-winning Vincent Monton, the executive-producer is Richard Brennan and the writerdirector John Duigan. Middle and Top: Judy Morris and John Derum. Left: Judy Morris and Briony Behets.

Cinema Papers, March-April — 365


T H E M AN W H O W O U LD BE K IN G Jim Murphy After a not undistinguished spell as an ac­ tor, gracing such films as T he W ind and the L io n and C h in a to w n with his crusty presence, John Huston has returned to his rightful place behind the camera; writing and directing T he M a n W ho W ould Be King with the dash and vigor that would have pleased Rudyard Kipling. The idea for this film was nurtured by Huston for over 20 years (it was originally planned as a Bogart-Gable vehicle) and it is easy to see why he did not let it wither. After all, there are many affinities in Kipling’s adventure story with his own classic, The T re a su re o f the S ie rra M a d re — two ex­ British Army lags are driven by a dream of riches to pursue a lunatic plan to set themselves up as kings of the inaccessible, unfriendly Kafiristan in the 1880s. But in this case, it is not greed per se that' brings about the downfall of Peachy Carnehan and Daniel Dravot — the rather grubby heroes so winningly played by Michael Caine and Sean Connery — it is the good, old-fashioned ironic twist in the plot (somewhat unfashionable in these more sophisticated days). Danny, groping for some of the mysticism that surrounds him in the holy city of Sikanderghul, attempts to repay the Kafiris for their devotion (in believing him to be a god) by taking a wife and ensuring a succes­ sion of ‘gods’ like himself. But, in doing so, he provokes a situation that betrays his mere mortality to the simple-minded, but not very forgiving natives. The film is an unashamed throwback to the high adventure yarn that seems all but forgotten by today’s filmmakers. Huston’s script (in collaboration with Gladys Hill) mixes comradeship, sentiment, romance, spectacle, warfare and comedy; and does it with the true Kipling swaggering jingoism. It is bold and fanciful, and sketched by Huston in broad strokes. He is not afraid to include lines like: “ Keep looking at me . . . it helps to keep my soul from flying out” , or to in­ troduce the film with the much-abused flashback and the words: “ It all started here, three summers . . . and a thousand years ago” . This is spoken to Rudyard Kipling (Christopher Plummer) in his newspaper of­ fice in Lahore, by a beggar who identifies himself as Peachy. He reminds Kipling of their first meeting: Peachy stole the writer’s watch at the Lahore railway station, but returned it when he discovered, from a talisman on the fob, that its owner was a fellow member of the Freemasons. Peachy later appears in Kipling’s office with Danny, his partner in crime. Kipling knows of-their record (“ smuggling, to swindling, to receiving stolen goods, to bla ckm ail” ), but is amused by their audacity, and feels bound by their Masonic brotherhood. They tell him of their plan to escape deportation from India by travelling across the Afghanistan plains and the glacial Hindu Kush to Kafiristan, where they will win over the country, tribe by tribe, by teaching each village how to slaughter their enemies in a “civilized fashion” . They plan to become rich from their share of the spoils of battle, and hope eventually to rule the whole country. But no white man has ever been there since Alexander, protests Kipling. “Alex­ ander who?” asks Peachy. “Alexander the Great, King of Greece, 300 years before Christ!” Peachy disposes of that objection succinctly: “ If a Greek can do it, we can do it.” And they do. K ip lin g w itn e s se s t h e i r j u v e n i le “contrack” (to swear off liquor and women — whether black, white or brown — until

366 — Cinema Papers, March-April

“ If a Greek can do it, we can do it” . Daniel Dravot (Sean Connery) and Peachy Carnehan (Michael Caine) prepare their entrv into Sikanderghul. The Man Who Would Be King.

they return) with outward solemnity, and gives them his Masonic talisman as a good luck token to see them on their way through heat and blizzard to their fabled goal. It’s not Peachy and Danny’s knowledge of warfare that elevates them to royal status, but a happy accident as they lead their first village into battle against a neighbor whose chief villainy seems to be pissing in the water upstream while the others bathe. At the height of the battle an arrow strikes Danny in the breast, but it is embedded in a concealed bandolier. Without a second thought he continues fighting, but the enemy see this apparent miracle as a sign that he is the son of Sikander (the white god of their legends). Sikander (cf. Alexander) promised to send his son when he left many centuries before, and they take this hulking Scotsman as their messiah. Once the news of Danny’s deity spreads, nobody wants to fight, and their conquest is pure formality, especially when, in the holy city, Danny is found to be wearing a talisman that exactly matches the secret sign left by Sikander I. All the gold and treasure kept in trust for Sikander’s heir is theirs for the taking, and Peachy gleefully begins organizing the packing, so they can take it away in spring. But Danny, appropriately awed by the evidence of Freemasonry BC, begins to believe in the destiny which has led him to this place. He elects to become a true leader to the people of Kafiristan, making proclamations and playing Solomon, in­ troducing a bit of social justice to their dis­ ordered lifestyle. And it could have all work­ ed beautifully i f — ar, women! — he hadn't seen destiny written all over the pretty face of Roxanne (Shakira Caine), whose name just happened to be the same as that of the Princess whom Sikander I took as his bride. Right from the opening scene of a bustling Indian bazaar, Huston’s-command of at­ mosphere is exemplary. It comes strongly to

the fore again in a sequence on a train crowded with a babble of humanity, in the landscapes against which the fantastic tale is enacted (locations in Morocco and on the Grande Montee, Chamonix, France), and in the special effects work for the holy city’s mixture of Grecian and Asian architecture on a mountaintop site. The casting, too, is felicitous. Connery and Caine — neither very versatile — have been given roles well within their capabilities and encouraged to make the most of them. Caine plays his cheeky Cockney to the hilt, and Cohnery slips back into the broad Scot­ tish burr with relish. In the early scenes, played primarily for comedy, they work together with the jaunty air of a couple of music hall comics. Connery has a lovely moment towards the end when Danny, pulling royal rank during an argument with his partner, scowls: “ You have our permission to bugger o ff’. Christopher Plummer gives a polished, underplayed characterization of the gentle Kipling, illuminating what could have been a very secondary role. And one must mention two richly funny supporting actors: Indian­ born Saeed Jaffrey, as gurkha Billy Fish who acts as the adventurers’ interpreter with his “ oh dear me alas byjove” brand of English; and Doghmi Larbi, a casting direc­ tor’s dream with his wretched teeth and malevolent face, as Ootah, the devious headman of the first village they encounter and Kafiristan’s predecessor to Alf Garnett. Oswald M o rris’s color Panavision camerawork, with its overall yellowish hue, gets the most out of the photogenic terrain; and Maurice Jarre’s lightweight music score is perfectly in keeping with the spirit of the film. But it’s John Huston who gives the film its distinction. His sense of character and virile narrative style are unimpaired by his 69 years. Indeed, the fun that he has with the Kafiri warriors’ diversion of playing polo

with the head of an enemy suggests a much more youthful demeanor. It’s not a film for weighty, impressive moments, but Huston manages some telling images nonetheless: the reluctant bride, eyes rolled back with fear, being escorted to her god-husband by her wailing, black-hooded family; the treasure spilling from its packs and scattering down the mountain in the frantic escape bid; the shots of the looming stone idol that portends disaster. One masterful example of Huston’s eye for the exact way to shoot a scene is a relatively minor moment in the treasure house. He shoots over Peachy’s shoulder to Danny’s incredulous face as he-holds up a huge ruby. “ Look at the size of that,” Danny gasps. There’s a pause, then Peachy’s hand glides into view holding a gem twice as big. It’s simple and economical and susceptible to no improvement whatsoever. Huston’s fidelity to Kipling’s style, his ex­ pansive treatment of a fantastic tale and his ability to tell a good yarn make T he M an Who Would Be King a film that is different, and unfailingly entertaining. And the flashback device is vindicated (as it should always be) by the epilogue: Peachy depositing on Kipling’s desk the decompos­ ing head of Danny, still wearing its Sikander crown. With one deft stroke, Huston shamelessly lifts the film into the realm of the tall story.

THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING. Directed by John Huston. Distributed by Columbia Pic­ tures. Produced by John Foreman. Screenplay by Gladys Hill and John Huston. Associate Producer, Bill Hill. Production Company, Royal Service Company. Director of Pnotography, Oswald Morris. Edited by Russell Lloyd. Art Direction by Tony Inglis. Players: Sean Connery, Michael Caine, Christopher Plummer, Saeed Jaffrey, Jack May, Doghmi Larbi, Shakira Caine, Mohammed Shamsi, Paul Antrim, Albert Moses. Panavision. Length 129 min. Great Britain 1975.


The impossibility of ever glimpsing more than the essence of a place. The Passenger.

THE PASSENGER Tom Ryan It is tempting to see Antonioni’s latest film, like C hung-K uo and Z a b risk ie P oint before it, as part of a European conversation about the possibility of achieving a “ per­ sonal revolution” , of rubbing out the mis­ placed commitments of the past and facing the future afresh. In the late 1960s, and into the early 1970s, the films of Jean-Luc Godard, the most in­ fluential of all the directors of the nouvelle vague, presented us with figures constantly striving to “ return to zero” , to remake a world untarnished by traditional ideological values. His g lan ce, th o ug h not u n ­ questioningly, was towards the building of a new society in China. Dusan Makavejev, in his recent Sw eet M ovie, also urges a new beginning, and, amidst a dramatized commentary on sex­ uality in communist and capitalist social systems, the film generally traces the sexual rebirth and re-education of its central character, Miss Virgin 1984 (Carole Laure), demanding that its audience openly embrace the body’s natural functions. The neuroses, commonly finding expression in self-disgust, are to be exorcised, but while W R -M y steries o f th e O rg an ism was concerned with the means to this release from the past, Sw eet M ovie is a less challenging, more romantic vision of the way to the future, perhaps more akin to Pasolini than to Godard. If one takes T h e P assen g er in this sort of context, then, clearly, Antonioni is ‘saying’ that such a “ revolution” is impossible.* And David Locke’s failure to make any fruitful contact with life after he has ‘started again’ as the gunrunner Robertson, can be seen as suggesting that the sort of rebirth so central to Godard’s and Makavejev’s art is fantasy. However, while both the structure and method of Godard’s and Makavejev’s work invites, even demands, that we extend our understanding of its meaning beyond the work itself into a concrete world of political and social realities, Antonioni’s film is far more introspective, probing inwards into the psychology of its central character. And, in­ stead of a series of episodes linked to each other, for the most part, solely by the maker’s ideological view of these realities, Antonioni gives his film a f;.r more traditional narrative direction. ♦Chung Kuo seems to me to be far more open, more coneerned with observation than statement.

The cells of revolutionaries spouting dogma at each other (in Godard) and the communes of individuals seeking the repair of their psyches (in Makavejev) are replaced here by an individual who is bent upon refuge from a general feeling of malaise. But there is nothing in the film which demands that we view Locke’s condition as one rele­ vant to modern man as a particular political and social animal, though, indeed, we are free to view it that way if we wish. What it does present us with is a consistent style, both structural and visual, which leads us towards an understanding of Locke, and which offers an insight into Antonioni’s ap­ parently irrevocable pessimism.

inextricably linked — to see. And so, his The opening passages of the film, up to adoption of a new identity, while it might in­ the point where Locke abandons his identity itially have appeared to be the first step in a and profession as a reporter, clearly indicate quest towards a new life, becomes the the man’s limitations as a human being, and beginning of the final chapter in a retreat establish Antonioni’s visual method, both of from reality. That chapter comes to an end which remain largely the same throughout. when he gives in passively to the death that Locke arrives in a North African village in has haunted him, to ‘fate’ as he seems to see search of a band of guerrillas and fumbles it, as one of the people who, the Girl his way towards a finally unsuccessful rendezvous. The use of the locale with its observes, “disappear every day” . desert wastes and the impenetrable black Locke, lying on his bed in his room at the features of its inhabitants bears the stamp of Hotel de la Gloria, rolls over to await his ex­ ecution, turning his back on the window and the experience Antonioni had undergone in China, and offers an interesting retrospec­ on the world outside, as Antonioni’s camera tive view of C hung-K uo: the impossibility of begins the long rake which has aroused so ever catching anything more than a glimpse much admiration and hostility. Unlike the magnificent explosion which comes near the of the essence of a place. end of Zabriskie Point, and which seems a Antonioni simply shows it in order to facile resolution of the problems the film has allow it, in all its mystery, to speak for itself. confronted, the circular movement of An­ His camera is constantly and insistently tonioni’s camera here consummates the pans moving away from or past Locke to his sur­ and tilts around which the film is con­ roundings, when we might have expected it structed. Like them, this crane-pan moves to concentrate upon him, in accord with the conventional mode of introducing the ' away from Locke, arbitrarily taking in the events outside the hotel and finally assuming character who is to be at the centre of the a position outside the window from where it subsequent drama. It is the sense of the place had begun, looking in as his wife declares and the people in it which one takes from that she does not recognize the body on the this opening. Only when Locke, frustrated bed. after his Land Rover refuses to budge from The Passenger constantly functions in a the sand bog in which it had been caught, limbo — it is full of unanswered questions delivers the ultimate cry of existential arrogance, “ All right! I don’t care!” — as if about characters and their motivations, and Locke’s destiny is determined from the start. the whole world has levelled its hostility at him — does he become the focal point of Because he is as he is, there is no way he can The Passenger. escape the course of events laid out before him. He is morally dead from the beginning As the film progresses, it becomes clear that it is Locke's inability to recognize his — Jack Nicholson’s restrained performance own limitations within a foreign place that is an extraordinary submerging o f his underlines the moral vacuum of his ex­ familiar screen persona — and his surrender istence. This is established both by his deper­ to physical death, nigh on suicide, is a logical sonalized, disinterested political reporting outcome (a marked contrast with the passionate death by firing squad of the and by his never noticing where he is. The revolutionary in the newsreel footage). He newsreels of his interviews and his visit to Gaudi’s magnificent Palacio Guell (where he dies in virtually the same position as that in first meets the Girl), both convey his un­ which he had earlier found Robertson. willingness and his inability — the two are' Continued on P. 369

The individual bent on refuge from a general feeling of malaise. Jack Nicholson as the reporter-and Maria Schneider as the Girl. The Passenger,

Cinema Papers, March-April — 367

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Is not a man better than a town? Candice Bergen and Sean Connery in the

Continued from P.367 Antonioni’s ‘coda’, as the final credits roll up, observes dawn activities around the Hotel de la Gloria as ‘life goes on’, but it allows us little refuge from the bleak vision of existence which has preceded it. In a sense, Antonioni’s reflection upon man is lit­ tle different from that of the reporter in his drama, but unlike Locke, through his art he is able to come to terms with it. THE PASSENGER. Directed by Michelangelo Antonioni. Distributed by CIC. Produced by Carlo Ponti. Executive Producer, Alessandro von Norm ann. Production Com pany, Com pagnia Cinematografica Champion (Rome) / Les Films Concordia (Paris) / C.I.P.I. Cineatografica (Madrid). For MGM. Screenplay, Mark Peploe, Peter Wollen and Antonioni. From a story by Mark Peploe. Director of Photography, Luciano Tovoli. Edited by Franco Arcalli and Antonioni. Art Direction by Piero Poletto. Sound by Cyril Collick. Players: Jack Nicholson, Maria Schneider, Jenny Runacre, Ian Hendry, Stephen Berkoff, Ambrose Bia, Angel Del Pozo, Claude M ulvehill. ■M etrocolor. Length 119 min. Italy/France/Spain 1975.

T H E W IN D A N D T H E LIO N Marcus Cole John Milius likes a man with grit. He is in te re ste d in a rc h e ty p e r a t h e r th an character, action rather than analysis. He has an armchair affection for the manly vir­ tues of honor, integrity and chivalry, courage, and just plain old reckless derringdo. An eye for an eye, respect for a worthy foe, death before dishonor, love of one’s native soil, “ Is not a man better than a town?” — all of that. And Milius loves it. The feudal combat, the weaponry, the elements, the blood and sweat — and in T he W ind an d th e L ion he serves it up with im­ mense relish. It is splendid entertainment: on one level, a clever comic-strip fable about the beginn­

ing of modern American imperialism and the decline of the anarchistic frontier spirit, on another, a robust action spectacle reminiscent of the films of Michael Curtiz and Raoul Walsh. It is 1904, Tangier, Morocco. Mrs Edith Pedacaris (Candice Bergen) lunches in the midday sun with a British attache, her two children wandering listlessly about the wellscrubbed exotica of an embassy garden. Abruptly the scene changes into one of terrifying mayhem as a band of Berber brigands attack the peaceful luncheon, and Mrs Pedacaris and her children are abducted by Raisuli the Magnificent (Sean Connery), Lord of Er Rif and the last of the Barbary pirates, no less! It is a magnificent opening sequence, stun­ ningly executed, and with the most beautiful and powerful images of horse and rider I have ever seen on screen. The Raisuli’s plan is to ransom Mrs Pedacaris, finance an arsenal, unite the mountain tribes and purge his native land of the foreign powers — French, Germans, British, Americans—presently jockeying for military and economic concessions from the corrupt Sultan. However, Mrs Pedacaris is an American citizen, and in 1904, with rough-riding “Teddy” Roosevelt in the W hite H ouse, a b d u c tin g A m erican womanhood is just not on. However, . before the ram bunctious Roosevelt can resolve the crisis, a clique of military and ambassadorial rednecks decide to do a San Juan Hill assault on the Royal Palace of the Bashaw (“Teddy would like that” ) and they successfully overthrow the Moroccan government. Naturally, Mrs Pedacaris is used as the reason for the foreign takeover, and Raisuli, unversed in the ways of the new imperialism, sees his ransom plan come to nothing. Only his honor remains. The film has one minor flaw: inspired by the Warner spear and sabre epics of the thir­ ties, Milius’ crafty historical fantasy is a Hollywood anachronism acutely aware of the seventies. And as the current trend is for

B oys’ O wn

The Wind and The Lion.

films about survivors rather than heroes, Milius senses a problem in giving credibility to an heroic action film without sacrificing the unfashionable virtues in which he revels. He, therefore, endeavors to defuse our dis­ believing laughter at his bold and true men by encouraging us to laugh at his cleverness with a use of ‘pop’ one-liners and throw­ aways whenever a situation looks like becoming too heroic, romantic or emotional and, therefore, unacceptable. Consequently when Raisuli is flustered by the hot temper of Mrs Pedacaris, he wearily retorts: “ It’s been a bad year” ; or when an imperturbable Brit is about to be cut to pieces by the attacking Berbers and his revolver runs out of bullets he mutters: “Oh,, damn!” . Comic, maybe, but appropriate? Similarly, when Raisuli single-handedly res­ cues Mrs Pedacaris from a gang of pirates, in a superb sword battle on horseback, he caps his feat with the throw-away: “ Mrs Pedacaris, you are a lot of trouble.” By lightly spoofing the scene at scene’s end, Milius reassures the audience with a wink that he/we really know it’s all merely Boys’ Own Annual. Sometimes it works, most times it is a laugh at the expense of the film’s central integrity, that of straight, ex­ hilarating action for its own sake. Ultimately it contrives to keep us just out­ side the picture when all but the most hard­ bitten of us want to get inside and believe in the great physical beauty, swashbuckling sweep and color of it all. Perhaps film­ makers believe it isn’t possible any more to make a film with heroic characters and situations and do it straight. Maybe they’re afraid we’ll feel our intelligence is being in­ sulted and walk out? So, who can blame Milius — unless he honestly believes spoof­ ing epic themes is the best use to which he can put his undoubted talent? Happily, the film’s major performances could not be bettered. Sean Connery, in spite of his in­ escapable Scottish burr, is a potent matinee presence as Raisuli. He gallops about spouting florid Milius-Muslim aphorisms — “The blood of the Prophet flows in me,” et

ai — and carving up evil wrongdoers. It is his best role and performance since he broke with Bond. Candice Bergen is not as well served by the role of Pedacaris, but her intelligence and beauty help her largely to transcend the superficial underwriting. Milius seems a lit­ tle unsure about what to do with his heroine in a world of swords and horses. It is 1904, but in 1974 a woman doesn't necessarily go weak at the knees when a sheik whisks her off into the desert. So Milius bestows a token feminism on Mrs Pedacaris: she can handle a shotgun as well as any man, and talk the leg off any Arab. Romance is out, sexual politics are in. Another Milius con­ cession to the age. The film’s best performance, and best written part, lies with Brian Keith and his superb impersonation of Roosevelt. His “T.R.” is a grand creation: bucolic stoic, battling “trust buster” , defender of the great unwashed, full of flesh and fire. Everything “Teddy” was meant to have been, and of course wasn’t. In the film’s final images, the days of Milius’ Raisuli and Roosevelt are shown as numbered. Eoth men are out of step — Roosevelt must yield to the future, Raisuli cannot maintain his past. Both men are redundant “ lions” . Milius laments their passing. We lament their passing too, even if we suspect such men never really existed. But then Milius’ only interest in history is that it furnishes him with malleable material for myths; a time-honored film tradition.

THE WIND AND THE LION. Directed by John Milius. Distributed by Columbia-Warner. Produc­ ed by Herb Jaffe. Screenplay by John Milius. Production Company, Columbia/MGM. Director of Photography, Billy Williams. Edited by Robert L. Wolfe. Music by Jerry Goldsmith. Art Direc­ tion by R. Antonion Paton. Sound by Roy Charman. Players: Sean Connery, Candice Bergen, Brian Keith, John Huston, Geoffrey Lewis, Steve Kanaly, Roy Jenson, Vladek Sheybal, Darrell Fat­ ty, Nadim Sawalha. Panavision, Metrocolor. 119 min. U.S. 1975.

Cinema Papers, March-April — 369


HE HOUSE OF STARS The House of Stars . . . This glamorous name was given to the Sebel Town House at a time when a lot of actors and actresses were accommodated at our hotel while appearing as guest-stars in a locally-produced television series. Since then many more celebrities have been hotel guests or guests-of-honor at receptions held in the Function Centre, and the Sebel Town House has become firmly established as The House of Stars’. Recently, we were honored to play host to the dis­ tinguished delegation of film directors who attended the 1975 Sydney Film Festival. In recognition of the film directors’ influence on the successful ascent of any ‘star’, perhaps we should change our sub-title to: The House of Stars and Star­ makers.

Home was never like this . . . Few establishments could match the elegance, the comfort, the impeccable service offered by the Sebel Town House in Sydney. Every one of the 190 spacious rooms and de-luxe suites presents a magnificent view and contains the “thoughtful” extras now so often missing from other hotels. The rooftop swimming pool is heated in winter and the surrounding sundeck commands a breathtaking panorama of the city skyline and harbour foreshores.

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* Sydney’s leading venue for . . . If you’re planning a function . . . Consult the experts at the Sebel Town House Function Centre. Our experienced and helpful staff will be happy to assist with the detailed planning and organization of your next function. Contact Valerie Oliver, Banqueting Manager, or Nicholas Truswell, Function Centre Manager. Telephone: 3583244, or write for full color brochure, menu suggestions and quota­ tion to: '

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CorsetwaytoHeaven Looking Back at Picnic at Hanging Rock At the end of T h e P ied P ip e r o f H am elin , the little crippled boy who couldn’t go under the hill is left alone in the mundane world of adults, dazed and set apart by his vision of the other world. I also remember a science­ fiction film from the fifties where some peo­ ple go to a barn under the promise of ascen­ sion. Time passes, nothing happens and finally one or two get up and leave. As soon as they do, there is a strange noise, and when they re-enter the barn, everybody has vanished. They also are set apart, possessed by their loss. Recently, 20 or so followers of a couple promising transcendence via flying-saucer vanished. No doubt they will turn up on communes, or south of the border, or in mortuaries. In P ic n ic a t H an g in g R o c k , Michael, who was left outside when the girls vanished, is also dazed by his vision of the other world and returns to the rock to seek admission, or to bring the girls back. The human face shapes its expressions of extreme pleasure and-extreme pain almost identically. (This c o n v e n t i o n is c o n n e c t e d w ith the Elizabethan pun on “ death” and allows Chabrol to picture the death of Jacqueline in L es B onnes F em m es as a kind of orgasm.) Michael’s face has this look of mortal ec­ stasy at the climax of his return to the rock. He is framed by a cleft in the rock, and although the slope he is on doesn’t appear very steep, he is prostrate before the cleft, moving his hips and hands as if about to get off through the keyhole to heaven. Michael doesn’t quite make it. The conditions of entry are very tight, as we shall see. However, when he is found, he has a scrap of skirt in his hand — evidence of the dream world — which leads to the recovery of one of the lost girls, Irma. Of co u rs e, M ich ael and Ir m a are now bewildered and set apart, with identical, diagonal scars above their right eyebrows. We are meant to feel that, like the Ancient Mariner, they will spend the rest of their lives distracted by vision, and cut off from

the petty and meaningless activity that the rest of us call life. The film is awful, and how critics have been able to praise it as an Australian art­ work (whatever that is) I simply can’t under­ stand. Apart from being made in Australia, largely by Australians, the film has nothing to do with this country, or any other contem­ porary country for that matter. Its real setting — the hinterland of ideas and feelings the film draws on — is mid-nineteenth cen­ tury Britain. As a work of art it is honorary PreRaphaelite, in spite of the gum-trees. Having said this, one must acknowledge that the film could be made, and that critics could accept it, as relevant to contemporary reality, and show that our culture is still bound by the deforming ties of the Victorian era. P i c n i c a t H a n g in g R o c k is not a whodunit, and the way the film labors this point is interesting. Only the lower-class and comic characters make up causes for the girls’ disappearance. The upper-class characters, and the director, know intuitive­ ly that causation is too crudely rational and proletarian for the refined realms of the spirit and art. (What a bizarre irony that Philip Adams finds himself back on the right side by his acceptance of time-warp as cause. Even if he has to invent his own dialogue — “ What’s that strange sound down there?” — to prove it.) Accepting in­ trinsic class differences is one of the con­ ditions for accepting the film. Being upperclass is one of the conditions for entry to the other world. The girls are swallowed up, ascend, not because of anything they do, nor anything done to them, but because of what they are. They are well on the way even while at school; and Sarah, Miranda’s lover, gains access without ever leaving the school. Victorian girls were meant to be delicate— a word which binds the ideas of social and spiritual refinement to the idea of sickliness. Corsets and other bindings for the body, which abound in the film, are in fact the physical expression of this deformity in the culture. Binding the female body, preventing

its free movement, hopelessly deforming it, was the way the culture enacted the myth of the young girl as spiritual redeemer of society. The ideal beauty is corpse-like; Ophelia has great social vogue, and Peter Weir's leading ladies are possessed of the same pale, fey beauty as Pre-Raphaelite maidens. Fat, homely girls like Edith can’t get in because their bodies aren’t deformed enough io refine their souls. So, Edith can only com­ plain as the girls ascend the rock, while the others s t a r t swooning and em ittin g metaphysics. The wasting of the body and the freeing of the spirit into the realms of vision and tran­ scendence are equated in a sequence that would be ludicrous if it wasn’t so immoral and so heavily endorsed by the film. The ladies have their corsets, the director his punishing, but rewarding, art. And, of course, the image of the skinny corpse is still peopling the store-windows and footpaths of Bourke St. ’ Lesbianism is in the film in the same way as the disappearance is. Not to be thought about as a human reality, but as an emblem of the girls’ other-worldiness: an emblem drawn from Victoran art, from Coleridge’s C hristahel or R ossetti’s The Bower Meadow, where girls embrace and dance with their eyes fixed dreamily on the other world. The lower-classes, on the other hand, are pictures of guilt-free, rollicking eighteenth century heterosexuality. This is fun, the film suggests, but likely to result in rustic idiocy and good-natured braindamage. The idea that children are part of nature, outside civilized society, gives rise to the ap­ parently contradictory feelings that they are absolutely innocent, or absolutely evil. Being both spiritual and bestial means that children define and unite the opposing poles of being human; hence, their use by adults as scapegoats for warding off the extremes and creating the center. This seems to be the main force behind the myth we are examining. It seems to explain this ghastly yoking of the desire for dis­ cipline and mortification of the body to the

notion of spiritual refinement. It reconciles the twin views that children are both blithe, natural spirits and strange creatures requir­ ing constant supervision and discipline. The tension of this paradox generates the publicschool ethos, the sports and games ethos and the boy-scouts and girl-guides — where communing with nature involves para­ military conformity and discipline. There is no contradiction between the harsh, ‘c iv ilized ’ discipline of Mrs Appleyard’s boarding school and the soaring ‘natural’ beauty of Hanging Rock. The sub­ lime transcendence into nature offered by the rock is equated with the suffering and death of Sarah, ‘caused’ by Mrs Appleyard’s harsh strictures. The unearthly beauty of Miranda’s hour-glass figure, which leads Michael on his ecstatic quest, is the beauty of pain — the corset. Tight-lacing causes swooning, so discipline and suffering in­ tertwine with the dreamy heat-shimmer of unnatural forces to extrude the gigantic banalities of the girls’ growing insight. “ Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place . . and so on. Far from being Australian, the heat-shimmer is simply the pictorial incarnation of that notorious Victorian malady, ‘the vapors’. Landscape doesn’t embody time and place, but myth. The worship of beauty and nature in this scheme of things has its roots in the love of suffering and death. This is the ghastly truth squeezed in the pretty guts of the film. The thrill we get from the mystery is the thrill of queering all we value with all that’s evil. Sexuality with necrophilia. Love with death. Innocence with corruption. Art and beauty with suffering. The hierarchy of goodness with the divisions of class society. The truth about life with its transcendence.

Ian Hunter The above le tte r is published as a provocative and dissenting review of P ic n ic a t H an g in g R o ck . Being a letter, however, it is not subject to the normal Editorial con­ straints of accuracy and style.

Cinema Papers, March-April — 371

F IL M E D I T O R S ’ G U I L D O F A U S T R A L IA The object of the Guild is to ensure that the true value of film and sound editing is recognized — not only by those engaged in it, but by the whole of the film industry — as an important part of the creative and artistic aspect of film production. Memberhip of the Guild has been limited to senior and junior editors currently engaged in film editing; with an associate membership covering a large cross-section of people working in other sections of the film industry. Basically, it is an Editors’ Guild, and control will always rest in the hands of those senior in the industry. The Guild meets once a month and meetings are designed to stimulate in­ terest and inform. Visitors address the Guild on many aspects of film produc­ tion; producers/directors present their new films and answer questions. Guild members visit the various laboratories, production houses, Film Australia, The Film and TV School, as well as the television channels. So the experience of members is widened beyond the limitations of their at-work set-up. Juniors have, and we hope will, take part in another of the Guild’s Fega Film workshops this year — at no cost to themselves. The Film Workshop has always been made possible, In part, by assistance from the Film and Television School. In .the past, the workshop has been conducted over three weekends, with each student handling his own rushes from the set commercial, drama or comedy segment they have seen grow from an original script. During these weekends, a senior editor is on hand to detail work, space, equipment and to advise, assist or answer questions. Then the Guild members see the results of the juniors’ efforts run as double-headers. In a nutshell, that’s what the workshop’s about. Born in Victoria, the NSW branch is the lustiest offspring, but members of our craft are invited to join us as “country” members, if the Guild is not functioning near them. We are also putting out a newsletter and, perhaps, can help you organize or re-vitalize your own local Film Editors’ Guild. If you are a film editor, we are in­ terested in hearing about you and your activities, so drop us a line to: The Secretary, NSW branch, Film Editors’ Guild of Australia, P.O. Box 195 — Roseville NSW 2069

T H E A U S T R A L IA N W R IT E R S ’ G U IL D Things have never been so bad for the Australian scriptwriter. With the market for first-release Australian drama in the doldrums — so far as the commercial channels are concerned — and with ABC-TV having big ideas, but little funds, most members of The Australian Writers’ Guild are having to look outside the mass media for a living. " A lucky handful have been com­ missioned to write screenplays. A few more are making do with the oc­ casional bone thrown to them by TV producers who themselves are fighting with their backs to the wall. Some Guild members are writing novels on grants (or living on the earnings of their 372 — Cinema Papers, March-April

wives/husbands). Others are driving taxis, while some are on the dole — literally. Those of our members writing new feature films are John Dingwall (Sun­ day Too Far Away), Cliff Green (Picnic at Hanging Rock), Ted Roberts (Lind­ say’s Boy). In addition, Joan Long (Caddie) has set up her own produc­ tion company to produce a feature film of her screenplay, The Picture Show Man, with John Power as director. Since the successes of Picnic, Peter­ sen, Sunday, Alvin Purple — et a few al — some glimmer of interest Is being shown by financiers in backing Australian-made films. According to Australian Film Commission estimates, about 25 new feature films will be going into production this year. Yet, there are film producers who still say there are no worthwhile screenplay writers In Australia. It should be stress­ ed here that Cliff Green had never written a screenplay, until he wrote Pic­ nic, nor had John Dingwall, until he wrote Sunday. But both had many television dramas to their credit and there are several dozen more writers of similar experience and hence potential for feature films. Writers, however, can­ not afford to work on a “you’ll-get-paidwhen-l-get-the-backing” basis offered by some producers. ” With this situation in mind, represen­ tatives of the Australian Writers’ Guild approached the Australian Film Com­ mission last December, and it was agreed that writers could make a direct approach to the Commission for finan­ cial backing, instead of doing so only through a producer. Our Guild Is also preparing a film agreement to govern the terms and going rates under which a writer can be commissioned to write a screenplay. This agreement, after being labored over for days by some of our top writers, has now reached third draft stage. Although it still needs further redrafting, the Guild expects that before the end of the year it will have the AFC’s blessing and will form the basis of all future contracts between writers and feature film producers in this country. About a dozen of the top film and television writers of the U.S., Canada and Britain, will be converging on Sydney in the last week of April, for the first conference of the Affiliated English-speaking Writers’ Guilds to be held in Australia. Our Guild will be the host. We will be discussing problems of mutual concern and will probably be making some amendments to the ex­ isting Affiliation Agreement which has worked more to the advantage of the American guilds than to the others — particularly our own small Guild. No doubt, one of the topics will be the question of co-productlons and the "Australianising” of imported scripts. Of course, “ little brother Australia” has now grown up considerably and will be talking in adult terms on these, and other, subjects to our big brothers overseas. The conference promises to be both fruitful and stimulating.

A S S O C IA T IO N F O R A N A T I O N A L F IL M A N D T E L E V IS IO N A R C H IV E By the early 1950s, of the 17 features produced by Australian director Beau­ mont Smith, nearly all were destroyed. For many years the films had been

stored in a garage behind Smith’s home In Adelaide, and after his death in 1950, an Insurance company advised that the seemingly worthless collection be b u rn t as the n itra te p rin ts represented a fire hazard. Then, with the death of the even more prolific Ray­ mond Longford eight years later, it was found that only four of his original 34 feature-length films had survived. So, but a fragment remained to repre­ sent some of the most important Australian film work before the coming of sound. The loss of the Beaumont Smith footage was reported and lamented, but such public notice is in itself a rarity. Very quietly, all but a handful of the films of another pioneer, John F. Gavin, had vanished by the late 1940s, along with all but two of those by the talented Franklyn Barrett. In fact it can be gauged that of all the features made here during the two most hectic decades of production (1906-26), less than 10 per cent were surviving by the 1950s. Large-scale loss and destruction was by no means ended by the arrival of safety base film in the early 1950s. Right now, In the early 1970s, many of the negatives of the Sydney-based UBU films of the 1960s are reportedly missing, and these include such milestones as Bolero and Marinetti. No tears are shed today for the loss of The True Story Of The Kelly Gang,

produced 70 years ago, but just im -. agine today’s outcry If it were thought that within two decades there might be no trace of Picnic At Hanging Rock. Picnic will no doubt be preserved, and conscientiously so, but what of the commercially lesser films whose seasons might not outlast two to three weeks? Like Australian filmmakers of the silent period, independent film­ makers today are still sitting on their negatives, and still leaving their sound mixes on top of a cabinet or under a bed at home. The Association for a National Film and Television Archive is attempting to find out how many Australian film­ makers are dissatisfied with the pre­ sent housing of their neg or release print material. Because there has been no acquisition policy by such bodies as the National Library, the emphasis to date has largely been on housing by the individual, rather than preservation by a body acceptable and qualified to do this over an indefinite period. The result has been large-scale loss. The solution to this problem would seem to be the preservation of negatives, prints and videotapes by a national film and televi­ sion archives. But, In order to cam­ paign for a comprehensive and con­ veniently located archive, the Associa­ tion must know the needs of the producer who wants his output to sur­ vive for at least as long as he does, and hopefully well beyond. If you would like to voice any doubts you might have over the future survival of your work, write to the secretary of the Association stating who you are, what you have produced and how It's being stored at the moment. If you have an agreement with the National Library (or other body) and would like to ex­ press either satisfaction or doubt with the present arrangements, then we would be just as interested to hear what you have to say. The Archive Association has regular contact with the National Library as well as with the Australian Film Com­ mission, and both organizations are receptive to comment on the current

state of Australian film archival activity. The Association for a National Film and Television Archive is currently preparing a "growth plan” , which will recommend steps to be taken if Australia is to have a national film and television archives comparable with those existing In every other major country of the world. Copies of this plan, together with the Association’s quarterly newsletter, may be obtained from the Secretary, Association for a National Film and TV Archive, P.O. Box 137, Gordon. NSW 2072.



The N ational Film C o lle ctio n resources for film study continue to grow, although, because of the current budget constraints, the pace Is slower than planned. The Australian section of the collec­ tion has been increased with more ‘vin­ tage’ films, including two silent features by the McDonagh sisters, The Cheaters and The Far Paradise. An adventure feature, Typhoon Treasure (1938), made In Queensland by one of Australia’s (then) most promising directors, Noel Monkman, will also be available shortly. Among the more re­ cent features, the experim ental narrative film, Time In Summer (1968), by South Australians Ian Davidson and Ludwlk Dutkiewicz, is now available for use in film courses and by film societies. A major addition to the collection of American experimental films will be Bruce Baillie’s longest and most impor­ tant film, Quick Billy. The main film runs for about an hour, or four separate reels, with a number of shorter ‘rolls’ to be screened at random before, during, or after the main reels of the film. Arhong more conventional ac­ quisitions are films from the British “ Free Cinema” movement of the 1950s, including Momma Dorn Allow (Karel Relsz, Tony Richardson), Together (Lorenza Massetti), Every Day Except Christmas (Lindsay Anderson) and We Are The Lambeth Boys (Karel Reisz). There is also a collection of British features, including Cornin’ Thro’ The Rye (a silent feature by the British pioneer filmmaker, Cecil Hepworth), Man of Aran (Robert Flaherty), The Winslow Boy (Anthony Asquith), The Fallen Idol (Carol Reed), The Sound Barrier (David Lean) and The Stars Look Down (Carol Reed). A working title list of 710 films In the Film Study Collection, including those restricted to formal course use, is available from the Library. Registration forms are also available from the Library for those users wishing to gain access to the growing number of restricted films. ~

S Y D N E Y F IL M M A K E R S ’ C O -O P E R A T IV E L T D . The Sydney Filmmakers’ cinema is going strong, and this year wfe are running sp ecial m em be rs-o nly screenings at 5 p.m. on Saturdays and Sundays. Programming for these sessions so far indicates that on the first weekend of each month we will be screening a series of documentaries. Represented in these programs will be Leacock-Pennebaker, Peter Watkins,



Jack Lee, John Schleshinger, Buñuel and many others.

For the second week of each month we have scheduled a series of great cinema classics, Including films by Abel Gance, D. W. Griffith, von Stroheim, Hitchcock, Lang, and Leni. Covering the third week, we have sch e d u le d an in -d e p th look at animation. We will start with early trick films, and as the months progress our program will take us through U.S., Canadian, British, and European animation. Rounding off each month (on the last weekend) we will be presenting a series called “ Focus on Women". These films by women will be largely drawn from the highly successful Womens’ Film Festival of last year. If you didn’t get to see them then, now is your chance. Just a note about our special members-only screenings is that they are members only — but don’t let that discourage you. Membership also en­ titles you to a discount at our public 8 p.m. sessions of Australian Cinema and a year’s subscription to our newsletter Filmnews (Incorporating our program) mailed to your home. Also, a note to all filmmakers: we are a nationwide distribution organization whose prime interest is to support and promote Australian film and film ­ makers. If you have made a film, or are in production on one, and are thinking about distribution and/or screening, please feel free to drop in for a cup of coffee and a chat at the Sydney Film­ makers’ Co-op., St. Peter’s La., Darl­ inghurst; or drop up a line to P.O. Box 217, Kings Cross, NSW; or give us a call on 31 3237. Looking forward to hearing from you.


between. F ebruary’s program is Melanie and Me, by Chris Fitchett, which bares the opportunism and viciousness beneath Carlton’s trendy gentleness, supported by Ellery Ryan's Like Old Times, Michael Carman's What a Drag and John Ruane’s Near Dusk.

The 10 p.m. program is: Dreamlife, Mireille Dansereau’s feature, fresh from rave notices at the Sydney Inter­ national Women’s Film Festival, Pier Farri s campy Bette Davis’s Last Try, which draws definite responses with Farri’s exquisite Night Scenes of Ar­ t i sts and Poet s, and Ri cha r d Llewellyn’s finely-evolved Group Ex­ periment in Painting. The Australian Retrospective Season has been post­ poned pending a grant. In March, Frank Shield’s documen­ taries will be shown for two weeks, followed by Jim Clayden showing different experimental films every night for six nights, then repeating them the following two weeks. In April, David Hay’s The Spirit of ’76 should bring the disenchanted and dis­ illusioned flocking for a damning indict­ ment of capitalism — this time featuring the petrol industry. It’s supported by We’re Alive, a hard-hitting film on women in prison.

A U S T R A L IA N C IN E M A T O G R A P H E R S ’ S O C IE T Y The Australian Cinematographers’ Society in Melbourne has been deeply concerned and grieved by the loss of the television crew in Timor — one of whom was our esteemed secretary, Garry Cunningham. The members of the society wish to express their gratitude for the untiring effort and comradeship Garry always displayed, both as a cameraman and our secretary. In their profession as cameramen or journalists, there are few awards — their reward comes from unearthing the truth behind the news. However to honor and remember those men who have died while gather­ ing the news, the A u s t r a l i a n Cinematographers’ Society has decid­ ed that the Melbourne branch will originate an annual “ Memorial Award” . This Australia-wide award will be presented to, and retained by, the news cameraman whose achievements of that year are adjudged worthy of the award.

On Mondays at the Co-op, Bob Weiss and Anne Moir hold shows for c h il d r e n from local creches, kindergartens and schools. The shows are free and the children get to make their own films — painting directly onto the celluloid — as well as watching an extraordinary variety of international films. Others at the Co-op are pushing to start road-showing Australian films in the suburbs and country to give people a wider choice than the 6.30 news on television. A campaign has started for members to buy a Kombi wagon to tour schools and halls. The projectionist and driver would work for free, staging in the Kombi where necessary. A W O M E N ’S F IL M G R O U P . . . The Co-op held a Bring-Your-OwnMovie Show for several weeks over the ■ Christmas holidays and the response is being started to involve women in­ was heartening. It didn’t cost the film­ terested in all aspects of film: discussion, makers or the audience anything and it filmmaking, writing, production, ex­ certainly got participation — often from hibition, acting etc. highly talented people who had been If you are interested contact: working alone for years. Cynthia Connop 191 McKean St. The Co-op Cinema now has a solid Fitzroy. patronage spread far wider than the or original Carlton-Fitzroy support area. Helen Hooper All films show to good houses and 276 Cardigan St “Three Films on Homosexuality by Carlton. Melbourne Filmmakers” has just finish­ ed its second boom run at the Co-op, A meeting will be held on March 16 at with a season at the Playbox in 8 pm at 191 McKean St, Fitzroy.

For inclusion in the next Issue of Cinema Papers, all columns should be forwarded to: The Secretary, Cinema Papers, 143 Therry St., Melbourne 3000 by no later than April 30.

S e r g e i G e r a s im o v

To what extent is this scarcity of women directors a function of your In the twenties there was much selection process as head of the antagonism towards Stanislavsky school? among film directors. Are there any I have to admit that yes it is remnants of this now? partly the result of the selection There was a reaction away from process. I think it takes muscles, it Stanislavsky’s insistence on psy­ takes cruelty, to be director. Four chological discussion and analysis or five may apply each time, but of characterization. The nature of they usually decide it is too film did not need it, or encourage it. physically demanding.3 But the most original theory of In the Soviet Union, does the Stanislavsky was the idea that an actor’s consciousness was a product public go to a film to see the work of of loneliness, that he kept an im­ a director, or to see a particular ac­ aginary fourth wall up against the tor? audience, who in turn peeked in Maybe five in a hundred people upon his secret life. This is very enjoy a film on the basis of having much the way it is in film. All there^ identified it as the work of a direc­ is, is the tormented director and the tor. But the public want to buy pic­ uninterested lens of the camera. tures of the actors, not directors. Suddenly, the director will leap up and clap, after a take. But that And then again, people don’t try to happens very rarely, and he will publish the pictures of directors — usually say: “Very good, once more like me. .★ please” . Sometimes the actor will FILMOGRAPHY react: “ I’m not a horse!” And of course Stanislavsky underwent Sergei Gerasimov (1906)* changes too. At first it was utter w enty-T w o M isfo rtu n es authenticity, towards the end it was 1930 T(co-directed with S. Bartenev). bright theatrical spectacle. At first 1931 T he F o rest. it was all analysis over the table, 1932 T he H e a rt o f Solom on. later it was small pieces, etudes, 1934 Do I Love You? 1936 T he Bold Seven. trying it out, up there on the stage. 1937 K om soloisk. Fundamentally, he was correct in­ 1939 T he T each er. sisting that you cannot be per­ 1941 M a s k a ra d ; Film N o tes on B a ttle No. 1; T he O ld G uard. mitted to divorce yourself from the h e Invincibles (co-director Mikhail natural sense of things. There is no 1942 TKalatozov). current in Soviet thought that is 1943 C in e-C o n c ert for the 25th A nniver­ likely to overturn Stanislavsky, but sary o f th e Red A rm y (co-directors Kalatozov and Yefim Dzigan). his theories are not “ followed” , but “interpreted” , by the best directors. 1944 T h e G reat E a rth

Continued from P.331

What is the proportion of women to men engaged at all levels of film­ making in the Soviet Union? There are very few women direc­ tors; in fact there are five women who have been important in the field. ( The list included Yulia Solntseva and Esther Shub, but Gerasimov’s memory began to break down and he couldn’t remember the fifth name he had in mind.) There are, however, many exceptional women writers and art designers. The majority tend to become critics — and that’s where they even up the score.

1948 1950 1951 1954 1957-8 1959 1962 1967 1970

T h e Young G uard. L ib erated C hina. C o u n try D o cto r. N ad ezh a. Q u iet Flows the D on. T he S p u tn ik S p eak s. M en and B easts. T he Jo u rn a list. By T he L ak e.

* From 1967 onwards, not complete.

FOOTNOTES 1. Also spelt Gerassimov. 2. Also known as the Film Institute. 3. (However, at another point in the dis­ cussion, Gerasimov stated that 80% of the directors of scientific and documentary films in the Soviet Union are women; ap­ parently directing this kind of film is different, less muscular, more gentle, and therefore ideally suited to women.)




DOMINION THEATRE EQUIPMENT CO. LTD.. 970 DAVIE ST.. VANCOUVER. B.C.. CANADA (604)6821848. . . Cinema Papers, March-April — 373

THE HINDENBURG The Hindenhurg is Robert Wiseâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s re-creation of the last air voyage of the famous luxury German dirigible. The film stars Anne Bancroft as the Countess (right) and George C. Scott as Colonel Ritter (below). It was shot in Panavi si on and Technicolor by Robert Surtees, ASC.




«*' ' VH'

monsters, sword-wielding skeletons, etc, they also needed a musician of extraordinary imagination and skill to match the images with equally vivid sound. Those who have, tapes or records of these works will know how superbly Herrmann conquered all the difficulties these films presented. However, Herrmann had a special affinity for films of horror and fear, and films whose principal characters were psychologically abnormal. If his score for P sy ch o is his masterpiece in this vein, there are others not far behind. C a p e F e a r (1961), M a m ie (1964), a film in which the score is arguably better in delineating character than the script, E n d less N ig h t (1971), a far more in­ genious Christie than O rien t E x p ress, and S iste rs (1972), De Palma’s black Hitchcock take-off, are just four in which Herrmann’s intense and unnerving music may be heard. It is music which combines dark colors, sub­ tle melodic shapes, and transparent scoring in a manner rare in films of this type. Such well-known musical devices as pedal point, tremolando and rhythmic agitato patterns, repeated by differing instrumental groups, are always used in these films with a skill unmatched by others who have written for thrillers, and who seem to equate con­ tinuous volume and constant discord with excitement and tension. Herrmann’s har­ monies are often classically simple, and on paper some of his most effectively chilling writing looks unbelievably uncluttered. For readers of this column who may not know just which music of Herrmann’s is recorded, here is a partial list, including one or two recordings that are probably not easy to obtain:

Ivan Hutchinson The sudden death of Bernard Herrmann on December 24, 1975, at the age of 64, came at a time when he seemed to be enter­ ing a most active and fascinating period of an already fruitful career. A series of recor­ dings of his work, plus others displaying his skill as a conductor, have recently appeared on the London label. And, of late, he had been more active than ever in scoring films, and had only just completed the recording for Martin Scorsese’s T a x i D river, on December 23. His work as a composer of film music has been admired for many years, but more by other musicians, perhaps, than by the public. While the names of Victor Young, Alfred Newman, Max Steiner and others gradually filtered through to the public consciousness (generally when one of their film themes was yanked out of context, belittled by added lyrics and re-orchestrated in the vogue of the day), Herrmann remained a sort of secondstringer, talented, but somewhere behind the great Hollywood film composers. Since only a comparatively small percen­ tage of an audience is ever aware of a film’s music, it would be true to say that for the greater part of his career — a career which began in 1941 with Welles’ C itizen K ane — he has remained unknown to the public, with very little of his film music available on record. Today, all this has changed, and there is probably no composer of those great filmmusic years better represented on disc than Herrmann. Unlike many of the great names of film music, Herrmann was American-born: in New York, June 29, 1911. Neither his Russian-born father nor his mother was musical. His only brother, Louis, is an op­ tometrist. Herrmann’s interest in music began even before high school. He took courses on com­ position at New York University while in his early teens, and he continued as a fellowship student at the Juilliard School of Music. By the time he was 18 he was earning a living as a professional composer-conductor. He did not appear to have been proficient at any p a r t i c u l a r i n s tr u m e n t, a lth o u g h his knowledge of their capabilities was prodigious. He composed music for a ballet in a Broadway musical called Americana, and also formed, while still at Juilliard, a chamber group called the New Chamber Orchestra, which performed in major U.S. cities, under his baton. At 20 he joined the Columbia Broad­ casting System to write and conduct background music for their wide-ranging radio programs, and a year later he became a staff conductor for C.B.S. He composed a number of works over the next few years (another ballet, a symphonic poem, a cantata, a concerto, a symphonette for strings), but his climb to world fame began in 1936 when he was assigned to supp­ ly music for a radio program called The Mercury Playhouse Theater, a program1 designed by Orson Welles. Thus began the collaboration—short-lived and stormy, but very productive — of two young, but temperamental geniuses. From the beginning of his screen career, Herrmann seems to have been associated

H e rr m a n n o n R e c o r d s

Bernard Herrmann observed by Alfred Hitchcock on the set of T he M a n W ho Knew T oo M uch.

with superior films: certainly more than any other composer of his rank working in Hollywood. There are at least two reasons for this: after C itiz e n K an e, and that neglected piece of American fantasy All T h a t M oney C an Buy (or, in the U.S. T he Devil and D aniel W eb ster), he was again associated with Welles on T he M a g n ificen t A m bersons. However when R.K.O. re-edited and cut the film, he returned to New York. Secondly, he decided not to return to the West Coast unless the film subject was of in­ terest to him personally. He also accepted only one film offer a year and never became part of any of the major Hollywood studio music departments (although, between his next assignment, J a n e E y re in 1944, and G arden o f Evil in 1954, all of his films, with one minor exception, were for Fox Studios). In this period he also wrote the following major scores: H angover S q u a re (1945), in which he supplied a piano work for Laird Cregar (as the insane composer) to play; T he G host and M rs, M u ir (1947), a romantic and delicate score among his liveliest works for the medium; and T he Snow s o f K ilam an jaro (1951). In 1955, Herrmann wrote his first film score for a Hitchcock film, the 'un­ characteristic T h e T ro u b le w ith H a rry , which, though not successful at the box­ office, was happily the beginning of an association which gave birth to some of the

most fascinating and imaginative sound tracks in modern cinema. From about this period, whether or not the result of a growing interest by the public in the older films and the concomitant recognition of this by the record companies, Herrmann’s output increased threefold and continued until his death. He wrote music for seven Hitchcock films, but it is his work on three — Vertigo (1958), North by Northwest (1959) and Psycho (1960) — which shows the collaboration at its most fruitful. If his work with Hitchcock had tended to obscure his other writings over this period, the record companies (and Herrmann himself) have, to a large extent, rectified this in the last two or three years. Commencing in 1958, Herrmann involved himself with fantasy filmmaking of a par­ ticularly imaginative kind. In films such as S ev en th V o y a g e o f S in b a d , T h e T h re e W o rld s o f Gulliver, and particularly Jo u rn ey to the C e n tre o f the E a rth and J a so n and the A rgonauts, the composer created elaborate

and innovative scores of a complexity and ingenuity unmatched in modern cinema. These films needed a continuous flow of music, almost from beginning to end. And, dealing as they do with some of Ray Harryhausen’s grotesque creations (seagods, giant men of bronze, prehistoric

There are at least four different versions of the music from C itizen K ane on disc, two conducted by Herrmann, one by Charles Gerhardt on the “ Classic Film Scores” series and one conducted by Le Roy Holmes. The earliest of these is on Pye (Vir­ tuoso Series) TPLS13010 and consists of a suite called “ Welles Raises Kane” (written by Herrmann in 1942, as a tribute to Welles) in which some themes from the film have un­ dergone a considerable re-arrangement, quite often far removed from their original use in the film. It is coupled with a suite from T he Devil and D aniel W eb ster (his only Oscar-winning score), which he composed in 1943. Both receive spirited performances from the London Philharmonic, under Herr­ mann himself. An even more splendid-sounding perfor­ mance of the music is available on London Records (though containing not quite as much of it as the others). The disc is called “ Music from the Great Film Classics” (SP44144) and also contains his atmospheric score from J a n e E y re (the Welles-Fontaine version) and the Interlude and Waltz from T h e Snow s o f K ilim an jaro , (the 1951 Fox version of the Hemingway story). The haunting waltz from this last score is r e c o r d e d on a C o l u m b i a r e c o r d ( S B P G 6 2 2 4 6 ) c a ll e d “ M u s ic from Hollywood” , a live recording from the Hollywood Bowl in 1963 in which various Hollywood composers conduct excerpts from their works. A further suite of themes from this film was recorded on RCA LPM1007, but I doubt if this record is still available. Continued on P.378

Cinema Papers, March-April — 375

C O M M E R C I A L F IL M S R E L E A S E D : 1975




CRITICS’ CHOICE Mary Arrnitage —

3. S unday T oo F ar Away 4. N ashville 5. G odfather II 6. T he P a ra lla x View (Pakula) 7. T he F ortune (Nichols) 8. Lenny (Fosse) . 9. T he P assenger 10. S cenes from a M a rria g e (Bergman)

The Advertiser 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

S unday T oo F ar Away (Hannam) P icn ic a t H an g in g R ock (Weir) T he S e c re t (Enrico) L acom be L ucien (Malle) C hinatow n (Polanski)

The Passenger (Antonioni) Nashville (Altman) S ta rd u st (Apted) Ja vs (Speilberg) T w erin g Inferno (Guillerman)

M ik e H a r ris —

The Australian 1. C hinatow n 2. L acom be L ucien , 3. Bite T he Bullet (Brooks)

Colin Bennett* —

4. T he T ak in g o f P elham 1-2-3 (S a rg en t) 5. P icn ic a t H anging R ock 6. F rench C onnection II 7. Nashville 8 . T h e R e tu r n o f th e P in k P a n t h e r

Age, Melbourne 1. S un d ay T o o F a r Away P ic n ic a t H an g in g R ock D ista n t T h u n d er (Ray) Im m oral T ales (Borowczyk) N ashville 6. C hinatow n 7. L aco m b e Lucien 8. T h e P h an to m o f L ib erte (Buñuel) 9. T h e S p irit o f the Beehive (Erice) I0. The F ro n t P ag e (Wilder)

2. 3. 4. 5.

(Edwards) 9. N ig h t M oves (P enn) 10. T he P assen g er

S c o tt M u r r a y —

Cinema Papers

* Chosen from commercially released films only.

J a c k C la n c y —

Nation Review

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

1. L aco m b e L ucien 2. C hinatow n 3. S unday T o o F ar Away 4. G o d fath er II (Coppola) 5. O ffice P ic n ic (Cowan) 6. Between W a rs (Thornhill) 7. N ashville 8 . P h an to m o f L ib erte 9. T ow ering Inferno 10. F rench C onnection II (Frankenheimer)

7. 8. 9.


P . P. M c G u in n e s s —

National Times 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

Ja n D a w so n —

Sight and Sound 1. B lac k M oon (Malle) 2. A B igger S plash (Hazan) 3. C eline and Ju lie Go B oating (Rivette) 4. C hinatow n 5. T h e Invitation (Goretta) 6. Love in the A fternoon (Rohmer) 7. N ashville 8 . O cca sio n al W o rk o f a Fem ale Slave

The Herald 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Plus two films not yet screened in Australia: W ro n g M ovem ent (Wenders) India S ong (Duras)

A n t o n y I. G in n a n e —

Toorak Times 1. C hinatow n

2. T ru c k T u rn e r (Kaplan) 3. B ring M e th e H ead of A lfredo G arcia (PeckinpaTi) 4. P lay in g with F ire (Robbe-Grillet) '

S a n d ra H a ll —

The Bulletin 1. C hinatow n 2. A lic e D o e s n ’t


H e re

A n y m o re


376 — Cinema Papers, March-April

I.F. Stone’s Weekly (Bruck) Fantastic Planet (Laloux) The Passenger Phantom of Liberte Stavisky (Resnais) Chinatown Blanche (Borowczyk) Love in the Afternoon Sweet Movie (Makavejev) Picnic at Hanging Rock

A n d re w M c K a y —

(Kluge) 9. T he P assen g er 10. P a sto ra l H id e-and-S eek (T eray am a)

5. S ex in th e W ard s 6. N ad a (Chabrol) 7. F ear E a ts the S oul (Fassbinder) 8. C a lifo rn ia S p lit (Altman) 9. C o c k fig h ter (Heilman) 10. L aco m b e Lucien

T he M outh W ide O pen (Pialat) T he C ircu m stan c e (Olmi) Cousin A ngelica (Saura) A lice in the C ities (Wenders) S till L ife (Shahid-Saless) L acom be Lucien P ic n ic a t H anging R ock M iddle o f the W orld (T an n er) Im m oral T ales T ouch o f Z en (King Hu)


Cousin Angelica Chinatown Barry Lyndon (Kubrick) Elektreia (Jancso) Nashville Picnic at Hanging Rock Sunday Too Far Away 8 . Lacombe Lucian 9. I.F. Stone’s Weekly 10. The Passenger

T o m R ya n —

Educational Supplement 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

Alice in the Cities Angst von der Angst (Fassbinder) Godfather II Les Innocents aux M ains S ales (Chabrol) Mandingo (Fleischer) Nikel Ride (Mulligan) Ohayo (Ozu) Primate (Weisman) . The Slightly Pregnant Man (Demy) Sweet Movie (Makavejev)

Uptown Saturday Night (Poitier) Tom Thumb The Love Epidemic (Trenchard-Sm ith) Deadly Weapons (W isem ath) Swallows and Amazons 99-44/100% Dead (Frankenheim er) Boy With Two Heads Chinatown (Polanski) The Incredible Two-Headed Transplant She Knew No Other Way Calibre 9 WUSA (Rosenberg)

FEBRUARY Biography of Miss Jane Pittman (Korty) Caravan to Vacarres (Reeves) Naked Are the Cheaters Overexposed Le Mouton Enrage (Deville) The Abdication (Harvey) Private Club (Pecas) Cops and Robbers (Avakian) Sexual Freedom in Denmark (De Renzy) Mahler (Russell) The .Lustful Vicar (W ickm ann) Keep it in the Family (Kent) The Last Snows of Spring (dell Barzo) Flesh Gordon The Other Side of Bonnie and Clyde (Buchanan) The Terminal Man (Hodges) Diamonds on her Naked Flesh W (Quine) My Pleasure is My Business (W axman) The Office Picnic (Cowan) The Night Evelyn Rose frm the Grave (Martlana) Scream and Die (Larraz) The Mean Machine (Aldrich) Secret Sex Lives of Romeo and Juliet (Stooksberry) Loves of Cynthia Steptoe and Son Ride Again (Sykes) Carry on Dick (Thomas) Watch Out We’re Mad (M ontaldo) Open Season (Collinson) Minnie and Moacowitz (Cassavettes) Life Size (Berlanga) Sugar Cookies (Gassuni) The Sinful Dwarf (Rashkl) Bloody Mama (Corm an) Scream Blacula Scream (Kjellan) Swinging Hostesses

MARCH Between Wars (Thornhill) Good to See You Again Alice Cooper (Gadson) Rabbi Jacob (Oury) More About the Language of Love (W ickm ann) Spirit of the Dead (New brook) Callan (Sharp) Gold (Hunt) Outrageous Unbelievable Mechanical Love Machine Claudine (Berry) Lacombe Lucien (Malle) Pygmalion (Asquith) Blue Summer (Vincent) The Seduction of Inga (Sarno) Rolling Home (Wltzig) Lickerish Quartet (Metzger) Erotic Fantasies Magdalena School for Swingers The Night Porter (Cavani) Sex Aids and How to Use Them (Schwartz) The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man in the Moon Marigolds (Newman) The Manipulator (Hughes) The Inheritor (Labro) Murder on the Orient Express (Lum et) The Front Page (W ilder) Who? (Gold) House in Nightmare Park Keyhole Report The Killer Macunaima (de Andrade) In the Name of the Father (Bellochio) Dream Life (Dansereau) The True Story of Eskimo Nell (Franklin) The Towering Inferno (G uillerm an) Abby (G irdler) The Land that Time Forgot (Connor) Love Thy Neighbour Funny Lady (Ross) Confessions of a Window Cleaner (Guest) Now Now Darling Birds Do It (W olper) The Trial of Billy Jack (Laughlin) The Wanderers (Ichikawa) The Pedestrian (Schell) Ransom Baby Pushing up Daisies

APRIL When Love is Lust Love in ’72 Truck Turner (Kaplan) Dirty O’Neil (Keen and Teague) The Hong Kong Cat Johnny Cash Doberman Patrol The Firm Man (Duigan) The Godfather Part II (Coppola) Blood for Dracula (M orrissey) Idi Amin Dada (Schroeder) Tommy (Russell) Goodbye Uncle Tom (Jacobettl) Don’t Look in the Basement (Brownrug) Plaything of the Devil (Sarno) Santee Law and Disorder (Passer) The Man Who Gets What He Wants (Deferre) Forbidden Sexuality (Kolle) The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz (Kotcheff) A Girl of Passion Tall Blond Man with Black Shoe (Robert) Bedstone Fox (Hill) Kingdom in the Clouds Going Places (Blier) Bof (Foraldo)

MAY Campus Pussycats The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3 (Sargent) The Great Waldo Pepper (Hill) Bite the Bullet (Brooks) Phantom of Liberte (Buñuel) Castaway Cowboys (McEveety) The Bears and I (McEveety) Pink Floyd Beautiful People (Uys) Stardust (Apted) Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (Peckinpah) Huckleberry Finn (Thom pson) The Spiral Staircase (C ollinson) White Slavers Diary of a Sinner Ace High The Case of the Smiling Stiffs Mad, Mad Adventures in Russia Man at the Top Sex Connection Love Keys Freedom for Love Blue Money Jams

Sidecar Racers (Bellamy)

JUNE Helen of Troy Fantastic Planet (Laloux) Crystal Voyager (Elfick) 11 Harrowhouse (Avakian)


M andingo (Fleischer)

Love Games in Florence Sex in the Convent Massacre In Rome (Cosm atos) The Woyage (de Sica) Bawdy Tales (Clttl) Shampoo (Ashby) Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (Scorsese) Attica (Firestone) Lenny (Fosse) Amorous Milkman Navajo Joe Blanche (Borowczyk) Sweet Games of Summer (Menzel) Sunday Too Far Away (Hannam) The Terrorists (W rede) Jerem y (Baron) Dead Cert (Richardson)

Sex Without Love The Homecoming (Hail) Birds of Prey The Heroes Robin Hood Hsppy New Year (Lelouch) Brannigan (Hlckock) Coming Together

JULY Four Deuces (Bushelie) Best of the New York Erotic Film Festival Love Swedish Style Glory Stompers Angels from Hell Thunderfist Pink Garter Gang Ophelia (Chabrol) Rhinoceros (O'Horgan) Superstud Hot Connections Alpha Beta Capone (Carver) Orders to Kill (Maesso) Rosebud (Prem inger) Borsalino & Co (Deray) Dear Irene (Thom pson) Re Lone (Ernst) Gosh Two Missionaries The Eiger Sanction (Eastwood) Great Expectations (Hardy) Around the World With Fanny Hill (Ahlberg) The Last Train (Brown) Playing with Fire (Robbe-Grillet) Sex in the Wards (Edm unds) Unripe Flesh Behind the Wall (Zanussl) Family Life (Zanussl) Mechanical Bananas (Davy) Sexual Freedom USA I. F. Stones Weekly (Bruck) Luther (Green) Spikes Gang (Fleischer) Shark’s Treasure (Wilde) Mixed Company (Shavelson) Jesst’s Girls Dark Star (Carpenter) Nada (C harbrol) Love In the Afternoon (Rohm er) Deadly Strangers (Hayers) Love Secrets of the Kama Sutra Summer Sprout Reigen (Shrenk) Dandy Bunny Capers (Arnold) Children of the Moon (Weiss) The Affair (Gates) The Werewolf of Washington (Ginsberg) The Box (Eddy) A Delicate Balance (Richardson)

AUGUST The Great MacArthy (Baker) Prison Girls (Simone) Superchick (Forsythe) Lepke (Golan) It's Alive (Cohen) Rage (Scott) Passion Pit Before and After Love Rollerball (Jewison) Monty Python and the Search for the s Holy Grail Holy Grail (G illiam and Jones) Immoral Tales (Borowczyk) Jed and Sonny (Tessari) * Hell’s Angels on Wheels (Rush) The Four Musketeers (Lester) The Fortune (Nichols) Escape to Witch Mountain (Hough) The Invincible A Window to the Sky (Pearce) Wild Party (Ivory) Sexually Yours (Pecas)

T O P 10

Superbug on Extratour Hell Hounds of Alaska The Amazing Mr Blunden (Jeffries) Trap on Cougar Mountain (Larsen) Dark Places (Sharp) Come One Come All Death Curse of Tartu (Grefe) House on the Rocks

SEPTEMBER The Man from Hong Kong (Trenchard-Smith) Wide Open Marriage The Groove Tube (Shapiro) Naked Countess (Wicki) Lost in the Stars Special Section (Gavras) Night Moves (Penn) The Reincarnation of Peter Proud (Thomson) Fear Eats the Soul (Fassbinder) A Separate Peace (Pearce) Child’s Play (Lumet) Prisoner of 2nd Avenue (Saks) Cycle of the Abnormal Francy’s Friday The Yakuza (Pollack) Death Race 2000 (Bartel) Live a Little Steal a Lot (Chomsky) Swedish Wife Exchange Club Drowning Pool (Rosenberg) The Gambler (Relsz) Butley (Pinter) How Willingly You Sing (Paterson) French Connection II (Frankenheimer) Scobie Malone (Ohlson) Nashville (Altman) Phantom of the Paradise (de Palma) Julie (Romberg) Jacqueline Sussan’s Once is Not Enough (Green) The Invitation (Goretta) A Gorgeous Bird Like Me (Truffaut) Bloody Virgin

OCTOBER Macon County Line (Compton) The Removalists (Jeffrey) Couples de Bois de Boulogne Cleopatra Jones and the Casino of Gold (Bail) Naughty Nymphs The Stepford Wives (Forbes) The Day of the Locust (Schlesinger) And Now the Screaming Starts (Larraz) Take a Hard Ride Mrs Barrington (Vincent) ■

Pat Lovell

L O V E L L /P R O D U C E R ’S G U ID E

Highway Through the Bedroom (Hilbard) Solo Flight (Mills) W.W. and the Dixie Dance Kings (Avlldsen) Behind the Door (de Santis) A Bigger Splash (Hazan) Inn of the Damned (Bourke) The Happy Hooker Diary of a Switchboard Operator (Makavejev) Sexual Customs in Scandinavia Sensuous Housewife Girls Who Serve Their Apprenticeships Mr Hercules Against Karate The Loves of Zorro Picnic at Hanging Rock (Weir) Danish Pillow Talk (Hilbard) Best Pair of Legs in the Business Inside Out The Passenger (Antonioni) Night Flight from Moscow (Verneuil)

NOVEMBER Plugg (Bourke) Paper Tiger (Annakin) The Wind and the Lion (Millus) Sweet Movie (Makavejev) Confessions of a Sex Maniac Harry in your Pocket (Geller) This Time I’ll Make you Rich Love Camp 7 Brief Encounter (Bridges) The Bank Shot Moments First Love (Schell) Report to the Commissioner (Katselas) Conrack (Ritt) Rooster Cogburn (Millar) Breakout (Gries) Games that Schoolgirls Play The Wilby Conspiracy (Nelson) That Lucky Touch (Miles) Sore in the Saddle Wrestling Queen We Are No Virgins The Racketeers Women in Revolt (Morrissey) Made in Australia (Fredericks) The Klansmen (Young) Venom (Sykes) Afterschool Girls Extreme Closeup Seventeen and Curious Horror Exprt-js Run Stranger Run (McGavin)

Tennessee Lawman (Bellamy) California Split (Altman) Six Pack Annie Cooley High Return to Macon County (Compton) Make ’Em Yodel Baby Frauleins in Uniform

DECEMBER Jaws (Spielberg) Vampyres (Larraz) Sixteen (Longo) Autopsy Cockfighter (Heilman) Eyeful ✓

Continued on P.383

FESTIVALS RELEASES: 1975 Alice in the Cities (Wenders) Allonsanfan (The Taviani Brothers) The Audience (Ferrerl) A Bigger Splash (Hazan) The Brutalisation of Franz Blum (Hauff) Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? (Mora) Cantata (Jancso) Celine and Julie Go Boating (Rivette) California Split (Altman) The Circumstance (Olmi) The Confrontation (Jancso) The Conscript (Verhavert) Cousin Angelica (Saura) Dreamland (Brittain) The Day of the Locust (Schlesinger) Elektreia (Jancso) False Movement (Wenders) Help! The Doctor is Drowning (van der Jeyde) Himiko (Shinoda) ■ The Holy Office (Ripstein) In Danger and Distress Compromise Means Death (Reitz and Kluge) Infinite Tenderness (Jallaud) John's Wife (Bellon) Lina Braake and the Interests of the Bank (Sinkel) Lovers in the Year One (Balik) Nada (Chabrol) The Middle of the World (Tanner) The Mouth Wide Open (Pialat) My Way Home (Jancso)

Night of the Scarecrow (Ricardo) Not as Wicket as All That (Goretta) Occasional Work of a Woman Slave (Kluge) The Oddballs (Shengelaya) Orders (Brault) . The Passenger (Antonioni) Phantom of Liberte (Buñuel) The Pistol (Tiril) A Private Enterprise (Smith) Red Psalm (Jancso) Romancers (Shengelaya) The Secret (Enrico) Shadowman (Franju) Shampoo (Ashby) Silence and Cry (Jancso) The Sandglass (Has) Snowfall (Kosa) Sunday Too Far Away (Hannam) Snowdrops Bloom in September (Ziever) Still Life (Shahid-Saless) Sweet Movie (Makavejev) The Valiant Ones (King Hu) A Village Performance of Hamlet (Papic) With You and Without You (Nakchapetov) Wrong Movement (Wenders) 25 Fireman’s Street (Szabo) Yesterday Girl (Kluge) Winstanley (Brownlow and Mollo) Wokabaut Bilong Tonten (Howes) Steppenwolf (Haines) Touch of Zen (King Hu) Abachunina Post Office (Kakshmin-Arayan) Fantastic Planet (Laloux) Chac (Klein) A Woman under the Influence (Cassavetes) ' Good and Evil (Leth) The Middle of the Road (Kluge) Pastoral Hide and Seek (Terayama) Hearts and Minds (Davis) Marjoe (Smith and Kernochan) Vase de Noces (Zeno) Distant Thunder (Ray) Spirit of the Beehive (Erice) Pure Shit (Deling) Les Intrigues de Sylvia Couski (Arrieta) The Werewolf of Washington (Ginsberg) Black Moon (Malle) How Willingly you Sing (Paterson) Introduction to the Enemy (Burrill, Fonda, Hayden, Weller and Yahrans) Artistes at the Top of the Big Top (Kluge) Bruno the Black (Elsholz) Everyman for Himself and God Against All (Herzog)

Producers are not able to take an very big mistake was made by bas­ immense salary going in, not even a ing our industry on the American reasonable salary — not even a film and British models. commissioner’s yearly salary — because they put very difficult Don’t tell me they said “no” . . . Yes, and over there, on top of the stip u latio n s on how much a 75/25, they are pulling a regular producer can get. So how on earth studio salary . . . They said “ no” and put it down to another reason. But at least I That’s another interesting ques­ can we have a continuity of product wanted to try and get that straight. tion — what do you think of this if you can’t personally survive. I Unless I could do other things I believe the true case of it was that 75/25? Some people are fighting think 60/40 is fair. If they are in­ and work outside the film industry, they had invested in Cars and very hard against this and think it vesting early on in the high risk I would not be able to continue, area, then maybe you can lose a bit because I’m far more broke now hadn’t yet seen any return. In fact, should perhaps be 50/50 . . . along the way. But if you come to than I was then. I literally went out it hadn’t even been released. I think 75/25 is absolutely ini­ them with a ready-made script, and had to work an 18-hour day to Did the financial disaster, both quitous, because it means that even package or whatever, then 75/25 is 'earn the money to keep the project locally and in Britain, of “Cars”, if you have a success on your hands, iniquitous. There’s nothing like this going. It is a lovely commitment, have any effect on the funding of you can’t really make enough overseas — producers have a fairer but it’s a highly unprofessional at­ money to get on with the next film. go, especially in Europe. I think a titude. ★ “Picnic”? Continued from P.301.

I don’t know. I have a feeling that instead of 75/25 (25 per cent for the producers, 75 per cent for the other investors) we may have been able to hold off for 70/30. But that’s hypothetical.

Guide for Australian Film Producers. Continued from P. 317. WHEREAS the Purchaser desires to acquire from the Owner and the Owner has agreed to grant to the Purchaser, an exclusive and irrevocable option to purchase those rights in the Property set out in paragraph of the Literary Purchase Agreement. NOW THIS AGREEMENT WITNESSETH and the parties hereto mutually agree as follows: 1. IN CONSIDERATION of the payment by the Purchaser to the Owner for the option fee of the sum of Five Thousand Dollars ($5000) payable by a deposit of Two Thousand Five Hundred Dollars ($2500) upon execution of this agreement and the balance thereof, namely Two Thousand Five Hundred Dollars ($2500) within three months from the date of execution thereof, the Owner agrees to and does hereby grant to the Purchaser the exclusive and irrevocable option to purchase from the Owner the rights in the property as described in paragraph of the Literary Purchase Agree­ ment for the purchase price specified and payable as provided in paragraph of the Literary Purchase Agreement. 2. The Purchaser or his nominee may exercise the option by written notice of exercise of option delivered to the Owner at any time on or before the expiration of twelve (12) months from the date thereof and such notice shall be accompanied by a cheque for the deposit (if any) referred to in paragraph of the Literary Purchase Agreement. 3. Any notice delivery and all payments made pursuant to this agreement may be served made or paid by one party to the other by sending same by prepaid letter post to the address of the party for whom same is intended as appearing or to any solicitor acting on its behalf or by leaving same at such address or the office of such solicitor and the notice if sent by post shall be deemed to have been served twenty-four (24) hours after post. 4. If the option Is not exercised in the manner aforesaid then the option shall become null and void and the option fee shall remain the sole proper­ ty of the Owner. 5. If the o ptio n ls exercised by a nominee of the Purchaser there shall be served together with the notice exercising the option a notice to the owner by the purchaser nominating the party exercising the option as the Owner's nominee. 6 Upon exercise of the option in the foregoing manner there shall be deemed to be as at the date of exercise of the option a binding contract between the Owner and the Purchaser whereby the Owner agrees to sell to the Purchaser or its nominee and the Purchaser or its Nominee exercising

the option agrees to purchase from the Owner the property for the said purchase price which shall include the option price now paid and otherwise on- the terms and conditions set out In the Literary Purchase Agreement and all rights in and for the property agreed to be transferred to the Purchaser pursuant to the provision of the Literary Purchase Agree­ ment shall be deemed vested absolutely in the Purchaser, effective as of the date of the exercise of the option. 7. The parties agree that without derogating from the binding character of the option and the contract which will be constituted upon the exercise thereof the parties will within sixty (60) days after the date of exercise of the option if so required by either of them execute and exchange parts of a for­ mal contract of sale in a form containing the provisions of the Literary Purchase Agreement. 8. The Owner acknowledges that the Purchaser may, during the option period undertake production and pre-production activities in connection with any of the rights to be acquired hereunder including, but without limiting the generality of the foregoing, the preparation and submission of treatments and/or screenplays based on the Property. 9. All of the representations and warranties of the Owner contained in the Literary Purchase Agreement and any and all provisions thereof requiring the Owner to maintain and protect the copyright in and to the property and to obtain renewals and extensions of such copyright, and any and all provisions of the Literary Purchase Agreement restricting or limiting the exercise by the Owner of any of his reserved rights in or to the Property, shall be deemed Incorporated herein by reference with the same force and effect as though set out herein in full and shall be applicable throughout the option period herein provided for. 10. In the event that the Owner is in breach of the representations and warranties referred to in paragraph 9 hereof (a) The Owner hereby agrees that if there is any claim and/or litigation in respect thereof the option period granted hereunder and pur­ suant to the provisions of paragraph 2 hereof shall automatically be extended until no claim and/or litigation involving any breach or alleged breach of any such representations and warranties of the Owner is outstanding but in any event not for a period of time in ex­ cess of two (2) additional years. (b) Until tpe expiration of the option period, as extended, in addition to any other rights and remedies the Purchaser may have, the Purchaser may rescind this agreement and in such event, notwithstanding anything else to the contrary contained in this agreement, the Owner hereby agrees to repay forthwith upon such rescission to the Purchaser any monies paid by the Purchaser to the Owner hereunder.

11. The Owner agrees that he will not, at any time during the said option period, exercise or authorizp or permit the exercise by others of the rights reserved by the Owner under the provisions of the Literary Purchase Agreement which are not to be exercised or licensed to others during any period of time therein specified. 12. The Owner agrees to execute, do all things, acknowledge and deliver to the Purchaser and to procure the execution, acknowledgement and delivery to the Purchaser of any additional documents or instruments which the Purchaser may reasonably require to fully effect and carry out the intent and purposes of this agreement and to convey to Purchaser good and marketable title in and to the Property in the event the said op­ tion is exercised by the Purchaser. 13. The Purchaser may assign or transfer this agreement and all or any part of its rights hereunder to any person, firm or corporation without limitation, and this agreement shall inure to the benefit of the Purchaser’s heirs, representatives, successors and assigns forever and shall bebinding upon the Owner's heirs, representatives, successors and assigns. 14. The terms used herein in the masculine gender include feminine and neuter gender, and terms used in the singular number include the plural number, if the context may require. 15. The proper law of the agreement shall be the law of the State of Vic­ toria. 16. This agreement, including the Literary Purchase Agreement attached hereto, contains the full and complete understanding and agreement between the parties with respect to the subject matter herein, and supersedes all other agreements between the parties whether written or oral relating thereto, and may not be modified or amended except by written instrument executed by both of the parties hereto. All the rights, licences, privileges and property herein granted to the Purchaser are irrevocable and not subject to rescission, restraint, or injunction under any or all circumstances. IN WITNESSETH whereof the parties have hereunto executed this agree­ ment the day and the year first hereinbefore written. The Common Seal of XYZ Publishing Co. was hereto offered in the presence of:

The Common Seal of ABC Films Pty Ltd was hereto affixed in the presence of:

Continued on P. 383

Cinema Papers, March-April — 377


The Last Newsreel Continued from P.305

During this period both reels reached larger audiences then they ever had before, or would again. And in addition to normal theatre screenings, in Australia and New Zealand, the two companies compiled a joint reel (News from Home) comprising the best weekly items for screening to the Australian troops overseas. These reels, and footage from them, also found screen space in other Allied countries. After the war, it was back to business as usual, and the reels emphasized the problems of rebuilding and reh ab ilitatio n , and the hopefulness of post-war economic expansion. There were new ideas, such as the introduction of color (the bi-pack Solarchrome system) for some sponsorecTitems in the Cinesound Review. And with the closure of feature production at Cinesound, there was also, perhaps, a growing awareness of the significance of the two weekly newsreels as steady employers, and a continuing reminder to theatre audiences that the local in­ dustry, if visibly contracting, was none the less still active.

P rim e M in is te r, Jo s e p h L y o n s, ta lk s w ith C h a rle s K ing sfo rd -S m ith in fro n t o f the Herald cam era.

Around 1948, a newcomer even briefly joined the field, the Perth based Westralian News, which was aimed at local audiences who were not seeing piuch of themselves in the Sydney produced reels. Though of good quality, the reel lacked the economic base and production facilities necessary for survival (sound recording and printing had to be done each week in Melbourne) and it quietly foundered before its



first birthday. The fifties brought television and the beginn­ ing of the decline of newsreels. The new medium decimated theatre audiences, and the grand movie palaces began to close in increasing numbers across the country. Television shared the newsreel’s previously unique ability to pre­ sent news visually and it had an immediacy which a newsreel could never match. Moreover, it was free, and quickly captured the mass audience for which the newsreels had catered for five decades.3 In December 1956, Ken Hall resigned from Cinesound to become a chief executive at TCN Channel 9 and, as Hall throughout his career had always retained personal supervision of the Review, it now lost his guiding hand and, in sub­ sequent years, much of its flavor. Not long after, Jack Davey’s death removed an essential part of the character of Mlovietone News. Both reels endeavored, with some success, to recast themselves as cinemagazines and in spite of the increasingly unfavorable economics of their situation, there were innovations: in April 1961 Movietone released an all-color, CinemaScope edition (on the Sydney Royal Easter Show), which it claimed as a world “first” ; and in February 1968 Cinesound released its first all­ color edition of the Review. The reels began gradually to diminish in length — from the full 10 or 11 minutes to six. To bolster the budget, there was an increasing reliance on items, and sometimes entire reels, clearly paid for by a sponsor, and — not sur­ prisingly, perhaps, in view of the age of both reels — a growing preoccupation with recalling the past through the use of old footage. This resulted in some of the best (and worst) reels of the sixties and seventies; for instance, Bill Carty’s outstanding Symphony in Steel for the Review. In October 1970, with a brief announcement in the trade press but little else, the rival com­ panies merged. Movietone News and Cinesound Review abruptly ceased and were replaced the following week by the new Australian Movie Magazine working out of Movietone’s premises in Camperdown. Under Frank Killian and later, Harold Dews, the production of the reel was supervised by veteran newsreel man Sid Wood, who had first joined the infant Movietone unit in 1931. In order to survive, the Movie Magazine need­ ed to reverse the trend which brought it into being, winning an audience from a new genera­ tion of filmgoers raised on a tradition of televi­

by Le R oy H olm es. T his has m ore m usic from the film th an any o th er disc, but the conducting lacks spirit, and som e o f the Continued from P.375 m u sic seem s to h ave been re -sc o re d . H ow ever, it still rem ains a good buy. G oing from one m asterpiece tcf an o th er, T o get back to Citizen Kane, G erh ard t the m usic from Psycho (or 14 m in. 30 sec. of presents a selection from the film on A R L 1it) is available on a “ m ust have” disc for 0707. T his includes a splendidly sung version H errm a n n lovers (or H itchcock Jovers, or (by Kiri T e K anaw a) o f the aria from lovers o f good m usic) called “ M usic from Salammbo, th e only version o f it on disc. the G re a t M ovie T h rillers” (L ondon S PT his record also co n tain s a brilliant scherzo 44126). T here is also m usic from Mamie, the fro m a little k n o w n R .K .O . film , On th rillin g c re d it m u sic from North by Dangerous Ground (1951), tw o suites from Northwest, som e m usic from Vertigo, and a tw o inferior film s, Beneath the 12-Mile Reef suite called “ A P o rtra it o f H itch ” , based on and White Witch Doctor, both for Fox in them es from The Trouble With Harry, which 1953, and a first-class p erfo rm an ce o f the is a delicious piece o f descriptive w riting. p ia n o c o n c e rto fro m Hangover Square If you have an A m erican c o n tact who has (1945), with Jo a q u in A ch u ca rro a t the tim e on his hands, have him look for th e now k ey b o ard . (T his w ork, tak en directly from deleted M ercury disc (M G 20384) o f the the so u n d track , is available on C inem a com plete score o f Vertigo, an ingenious and R eco rd s (L P -8006) along with som e m usic . e v o c a tiv e s c o r e , c o n d u c te d by M u ir from T ru ffa u t’s The Bride Wore Black and M atheson. the B oultings’ Twisted Nerve, b ut the sound A n o th er disc difficult to o b tain , but one q u ality is not good). full o f interest, is the A m erican Decca O n e disc to tally given over to the m usic recording (D L 9014) o f m usic from F ox’s from Citizen Kane is available on a locally The Egyptian, a rare co llab o ratio n betw een released U .A . (L A 372-G ) reco rd , conducted tw o o f the H ollyw ood greats, N ew m an and

378 — Cinema Papers, March-April

sion news reporting. Given its necessary stric­ tures, that may have been an impossible task: perhaps, simply, the change in cinemagoing habits has now made a weekly reel of any kind inappropriate. And so the age of the newsreel passes. The night after the closure of the reel, old hands from Cinesound and Movietone gathered at the Camperdown theatrette. Ostensibly it was a farewell to Sid Wood on his retirement, but it was also a wake for the newsreel — and, for all the camaraderie, a sad occasion. Sid Wood’s comment, on being presented with his retirement gift, is worth recording: “ A newsreel cameraman has to learn to expect the unex­ pected — that’s his business. When it happens, he just adapts to it and keeps going.” ★ A ck n o w led g em en ts: S tills fro m th e F ilm A rc h iv e s, N atio n al L ibrary o f A u stralia, and published by perm ission of copyright owners: C inesound M ovietone P ro d u ctio n s, T w entieth C en tu ry -F o x Film C o rp o ra tio n , M r R oy D river. This article has m ade use o f m aterial co llated by A ndrew Pike for his article “ C inesound Review — End o f an e r a ” , Lumiere N o. 8, 1971. A nd special th an k s to the m any individuals who provided inform atio n .

1. T he p rin t is in th e film archives a t th e N a tio n a l L ib rary , th e only co m p lete Herald reel now know n to survive, and it was supplied with “ full d irectio n s” for its safekeeping an d preserv atio n . Everyones observed, in rep o rtin g th e gift, th a t it was to be kep t in official archives “ forever — which p ro b ab ly m eans until such tim e as an o th er L ab o r G o v ern m en t com es to p o w er” . 2. It’s still the only O scar in A u stralia. 3. Both com panies learned to exploit th e new m ed iu m , at least tem p o rarily , by producing TV series edited from their old footage: n o tab ly M o v ieto n e’s A Year to Remember an d On This Day.

H errm a n n , brought ab o u t by a lack o f tim e to p rep are the am o u n t o f m usic required for this big, if eventually n ot very good film. A recent P olydor disc (583 728) con tain s H e rrm a n n ’s m usic for Twisted Nerve (1969), but the m usic is not am o n g his m ost original w ork. H ow ever, tw o recent L ondon discs show in exem plary fashion, the e x tra o r­ d inary m usical m ind o f this genius. T hese discs, “ T he M ysterious W orld o f B ernard H e rrm a n n ” (S P C 21137) and “ T he F an tasy W orld o f B ernard H e rrm a n n ” (S P 44207), contain m usic from the fantasy film s he has w ritten for so brilliantly. T he form er disc co n tain s suites from Jason and the Argonauts (1963), Mysterious Island (1961) and The Three Worlds of Gulliver (1960), w ritten the sam e y ear as Psycho, with which it is fascinating to co m ­ pare. T he la tte r record co n tain s m usic from Journey to the Centre of the Earth (1959), The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad (1958), The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), and Fahrenheit 451 (1966), one o f his m ore beautiful scores an d , like Psycho, largely a string score, although very different from the form er. T hey are all played by th e N atio n al P h ilh arm o n ic, w ith H errm a n n conducting.

T he new E n tracte R eco rd in g Society (P .O . Box 2319, C h icag o Illinois 60690) has issued two recent scores by H errm a n n — The Battle of Neretva (1970), a Y ugoslavian w ar epic, for which th e co m p o ser w ro te a score o f a p p ro p riately epic p ro p o rtio n s, and Sisters (1972), w here he w as, ap p ro p riately , in his m ost H itch co ck ian and m acab re vein. E lm er B ernstein’s label “ F ilm usic C o llec­ tio n ” (P .O . Box 261, C a la b a ra s C alifo rn ia 91302) will sh o rtly issue w hat is certain ly my favorite H errm a n n score: th e delicately m elancholy an d ro m an tic m usic for The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947). A co m p lete Psycho has been recorded by him , and th ere are one or tw o m ore film scores co m p leted an d reco rd ed which m ay eventually be released. H is P ye-recorded op era Wuthering Heights, a sym phony, a clarin et q u in tet and th e c a n ta ta Moby Dick have been recorded, and th ere are possibly o th er w orks u n d er way. It is to be hoped th a t H e rrm a n n ’s d eath will not bring to a sudden end th e reco rd in g in d u stry ’s in terest in this uniquely individual co m p o ser, w hose c o n trib u tio n to th e film s for which he w rote can h ard ly be o v er­ praised. ★

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New Zealand Film Industry Continued from P.328.

The need for such an organization is borne out by the activities of Alternative Cinema, the film­ makers’ co-operative. Formed in Auckland as an incorporated society late 1972 and in Christchurch mid-1973, the co-op has attempted to fill the institutional gaps of the filmmaking es­ tablishment. Lack of finance, other than membership fees, until the eventual granting of money from the Arts Council in 1975, made it very difficult for the co-op to carry out half the things it obviously needed to do. Before that grant, equipment pools were the only way young filmmakers had of getting to the equipment, but now the co-op has two pic-sync editing rooms operating in Auckland, and Christchurch is setting up one. The bringing together of film­ makers for the first time, with the resultant realizations of common handicaps and frustrations, may have been the most useful con­ tribution the co-op made. This drive also brought about the publication of the magazine, Alternative Cinema. Though not published as frequently as originally intended, it has given filmmakers a badly needed forum. Moves to get it on a regular basis are being made in Auckland.

Test Pictures, th e co u n try dance sequence.

The co-op has also been the focus of a lot of filmmaking activity, both professional and otherwise. Several television documentaries, as well as several shorter films have been produced by members. The co-op was closely linked with the feature Test Pictures, only the fifth New Zealand sound feature to be made. Budgeting out on just under $14,000, this black and white production broke new ground for New Zealand in that it is the first time a feature has been made for the so called “art” festival circuit market. A slow piece which concentrates on the dis­ integrating relationship of a couple who move to an isolated farmhouse to “get away from it all” , it received a mixed reaction from the local audience. Some screenings were plagued by walkouts because certain people found the pace “boring” . One of the reasons for the disap­ pointments expressed may have been the mis­ leading publicity. Because of a rather tame scene of sexual intercourse, the censor clamped the R18 classification on it, and the local puritan society yodelled on about the disgusting habits of the New Zealand Film Industry. It was a sad episode, of which the best thing to be said is that it may have discredited the noisier elements of the puritan league. Undoubtedly Test Pictures has its flaws, and although they cannot be ignored, they can be partly attributed to the difficult circumstances under which it was made. Financed approx­ imately 50/50 by the producers and the Arts Council, with most participants putting their time and services in free, its scope could not be 380 — Cinema Papers, March-April

achieved again on such a small budget. One Auckland filmmaker, Roger Donaldsen, is planning a feature for early 1976 with a budget estimate of $160,000. Donaldsen may pull it off; he has successfully produced a series of six television dramas based on New Zealand short stories. His pilot for that series was a Katherine Mansfield story, Woman at the Store, an ex­ cellent half-hour drama now making its way in­ ternationally. The series of six was jointly financed by the Arts Council, TV1, the Educa­ tion Department, and by Donaldsen’s company Aardvark Films, which demonstrates the sort of rickety backing necessary to produce anything of size. The planned feature is of Ronald Morreyson’s macabre tale, The Scarecrow. Since Donaldsen’s success with his New Zealand short stories, producers have been running around whispering to one another about how they are going to produce this New Zealand novel, or that New Zealand novel. Either somebody' wakes up to the fact that original screenplays are not beyond the scope of many of our writers, or they simply run out of novels. One maker of commercials in Auckland has become a bit of a joke with his continual rushing into print with various projects and then coming unstuck over little things like copyright or availability of international stars. All the loose talk, apart from being amusing, does raise the level of frustration, which in the long term would seem to be a prerequisite of ac­ tion. It may also loosen up people like John O’Shea of Pacific Films in Wellington. O’Shea produced three features, the first in 1951 and two in the mid sixties, but since left the features business alone, preferring to stick' to safer things like commissioned documentaries and commer­ cials. The talk, as I said, may be a stage we have to go through. If it is, then an important function of the Arts Council would be facilitating com­ munications, a job it has not as yet fully accepted. A broadening of information flow to obtain a true reading of needs, ideas and aspirations is necessary to gain that sense of identity from which a pivotal group emerges. It looked for a while as if Alternative Cinema would be the fulcrum, but its support base doesn’t appear to be wide enough. The Arts Council has the faculty to contact, examine and inform the whole range of filmmakers as part of an on-going program. It would certainly have the support base, but unfortunately hasn’t done much about it yet, probably because it has not been able to define its own role in this whole scheme of things. So we come back to the Arts Council, slowly becoming the umbrella group that co-ops, professional commercial companies and others are looking towards to formulate and push for aims of an industry struggling to contribute more than frozen food commercials. The Council does put up money for films, and lately has even spoken of money for feature scripts which have an independent chance of be­ ing produced. The problem is that the Council can offer only small sums of part finance to a limited number of projects. It’s an enervating system of hand-outs which even by a quan­ titative change would not promote a healthy in­ dustry. Only a restructuring of the industry from the exhibitors back into the production sphere can achieve that. Such a re-organization can provide a fund and the avenues to keep it primed. When a Film Fund Institute is es-. tablished, the Arts Council can be assigned the role of administering that part of it which fosters the smaller, non-commercial productions it is now attempting to help. But until that time, the Council must assume the aim of bringing into being the Institute itself. 1 The New Zealand Government bears a responsibility. To quote Thomas Guback in The

International Film Industry: “That a govern­ ment is or is not financially involved in film is a reflection of the basic assumptions underlying that government’s existence. If the state is held responsible for the maintenance and perpetua­ tion of national heritage and culture, it is because it is the only institution representative of its people and their traditions.” Unfortunately, government involvement in New Zealand film has been to create a structure inhibitive to a meaningful development of national heritage and culture. PR O PO SED NEW ZE A L A N D FEA TU R ES Because of the fragmentary nature of the in­ dustry here, and the consequent reliance on gossip for information, it is difficult to say which films stand a chance of completion. However, the following list will serve to adumbrate the ethos of the nascent industry. George and Associates of Auckland are negotiating two co-productions. One is based on Desmond Begley’s novel, The Snow Tiger, and is 50% financed by British money. Estimated budget is $4 million. The other is a $9 million venture, 100% American financed, on the voyages of Captain Cook. This project is said to involve a prominent American actor who is very interested in the subject. Aardvark Films is lining up more television dramas, and intends to feel out the international market with the series of six dramas based on New Zealand short stories which it produced last year. The proposed feature, The Scarecrow, has been put aside for the moment to see how the land lies in other areas. Another group has done work on a script for a film about Stanley Graham, the quarry of New Zealand’s largest armed manhunt. In 1941, Graham, a farmer in a small rural community on the West Coast of the South Island, went berserk and shot seven men. Graham was even­ tually shot after 12 days which saw hundreds of armed men searching for him. Last year I produced a television documentary about the Graham case, and believe that the subject could yield a feature film capable of huge returns to its producer. Reynolds Television of Auckland have had an Arts Council grant of $2,000 for Michael Noonan and Keith Aberdeen to develop a ,feature script described as a “psychological drama” . The projected budget of this film is $1 million plus, and it will be completely finan­ ced within the country. Reynolds will distribute the film themselves and have an assurance from Kerridge-Odeon for national exhibition (a major breakthrough). Hopefully then, Reynolds will recoup their costs domestically and then profit from foreign distribution. The involvement of a couple of foreign actors will be used as a bait for international release. If this film breaks even, Reynolds have another two planned. It is still undecided whether to shoot on 16mm or 35mm. The proposed director, Wayne Tourell, is soon going to the U.S. on a short study tour financed by the Arts Council, and shooting will com­ mence when he returns in the middle of the year. Reynolds are also installing new processing and printing machinery, which may relieve the load on the National Film Unit to bring a more ef­ ficient and swifter service to producers. The unexpected decimation of the New Zealand Labour Government last November may ultimately affect the film industry. It is too early to forecast what will result from the change of government, other than to say that if the re­ established Ministry of Broadcasting decides to apply a bit of the old cost accounting to televi­ sion, the independent producers will be the first overboard. ★ ; .


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Zanuck and Brown Continued from P.309

the next 12 months or so, and are you or MCA going to be upset by the Senate Tax Committee’s en­ quiries into taxation changes which Columbia have apparently been worried about?

“Willy Dynamite” I’ve never seen, and I don’t think it’s been released in Australia . . . Brown: A good black picture by a very gifted director named Gilbert Moses. Fine actors too, out of the Harlem workshop and other places. I think one of the problems we had with genre films like the snake film and Willy Dynamite is that we made them too good and a little too expensively. It limited them in a sense, because we were unable to capture the extravagance, in fact the outrageous badness of a successful genre film like Mandingo. I’m interested in how you actually go about choosing talent for your films — specifically directorial talent. For example, why did you chose Spielberg for “Sugarland Ex­ press”?

M aking Jaw s, a film o f such universal appeal th at it can play before both avant g ard e audiences and sem i-literates. D avid Brown, Steven S peilberg and R ichard Z an u ck .

later he denounced the advertising Zanuck: His agent had sent in campaign. a screenplay that I liked and in­ But none the less you were suf­ sisted, as part of the purchase, that Steven be given an audition in ficien tly pleased with your terms of directing it. So he came in, relationship with him that when you I ran his little short and I liked it. acquired “Jaws” as a project, you We had a couple of very nice, long considered him for the director . . . meetings. I found him tremendous­ Brown: We persuaded him to ly gifted, at least from a conver­ sational point of view. But I decid­ do it. He got off the film three times ed not to use him as director of the because he feared that he would be film because it was a highly categorized as an action director — physical and complex film, and I this time directing sharks instead of didn’t think he had the experience cars. to do stunt flying and all that. At Or trucks .. . any rate, that was our first in­ troduction to Spielberg. Then, dur­ Zanuck: He literally thought the ing this six week period between Warners and Universal, Steven sent truck and the shark would come out us Sugarland Express, which he had as some sort of crazy parallel. evolved at Universal but which had been put on turn around. We liked Brown: We wanted him because it a lot, and when we came to we knew that Spielberg would give Universal we made our deal there. us something fresh, something in­ Sugarland Express was one of the ventive. We could have gotten a projects we laid on Wasserman’s mechanic, a very safe, reliable and desk. veteran director, but we knew we had a commercial subject and we It went on to win an award at wanted it to be something more. It Cannes . . . was a big challenge for Steven because he had to work with us, and Brown: Yes. It’s our favorite with a number of writers, on some film. very substantial changes to the basic material. Somebody once said, and I don’t know whether it was attributed to Were you in attendance for most either of you or to Steven Spielberg, of the shooting? that there was some dissatisfaction over Universal’s handling of the Zanuck: Every day. There wasn’t film . . . a day that either one of us, and in most cases both of us, wasn’t there. Zanuck: Steven said a lot about it. We certainly are not yes-men Of course it doesn’t make any and we don’t have to be, but we difference now, but the budget went think that Universal handles pic­ substantially over. Did that worry tures probably better than any you at that time? other company — certainly as well'. It’s easy to blame a picture’s failure Zanuck: Oh sure it did. We saw on bad handling, or bad ads, and our careers going down with the maybe they weren’t the greatest in shark. the world, but they were ours. Steven, David and I sat around and It is rumored that after the film discussed the ad, and Steven even was finished, some Universal ex­ shot it; so were were aghast when ecutives looked at it and thought it 382 — Cinema Papers, March-April

would be a cult film, like “Duel”, and were reluctant to put it out with a very big push . . . Brown: Perhaps what you are referring to was Universal’s plan for a massive release pattern across the United States—perhaps 1,000 theatres. But when the com­ pleted film was seen by Mr Wasserman, Mr Scheinberg and other associates, a conference was held to modify the release plan in favor of fewer theatres and longer playing engagements. It was handl­ ed with complete equanimity and confidence, rather tharl with a quite understandable desire to take a number one best selling subject and push it very heavily. Obviously this is a question that nobody can put their finger on, but perhaps your two opinions are worth more than anybody else’s: to what do you attribute the incredible success of the film in such a short time? Zanuck: I think that the ques­ tion could be better anwered by a psychologist. It is a phenomenon. It is more than a film, it’s a mania. I wouldn’t presume other than to say the obvious: that it hits some kind of primal nerve. Brown: I have a theory: I’d presume to say that one reason is that it is an extraordinarily good movie. It really engages the audience. There is also a universali­ ty of appeal which permits this film to play before both avant garde film audiences and semi-literates. It plays to all levels, all classes, all national and social groups. The perfect film subject, well executed. Given the incredible success of “Jaws” , you have, in a sense, become de facto opinion setters as far as industry trends in the next 12 or 14 months are concerned. Could I ask you how you see the industry in

Brown: I would like to answer that. I think that I may be hanged when I return to the United States, but I think the elimination of tax shelters will result in better films, because the tax shelter is set up with the premise that one is going to lose everything, but gain more through the tax deduction — in the Dooms­ day sense. Our approach to films, and MCA’s also, is to make sub­ stantial profits. After all, there are tax advantages in investment credit in the United States. The notion that one can deduct more from one’s tax than one has actually put at risk is something that attracts a kind of investor who is really not looking at the script so much as his taxable income. Given the enormous amount of money that goes out of Australia in producers’ and overseas dis­ tributors’ shares of films here, do you feel that multi-national film production/distribution/exhibition units have a responsibility to nurture indigenous film production? Zanuck: I don’t think there is an obligation in that respect. Frankly, I’m not very familiar with what your industry has been doing, but the same applies to Canada. Your Filmmakers are probably as good as any in the world, as they are in Britain, but the British film industry made a mistake in produc­ ing films only for their own market. It is the selection of subject matter that is important. Are you suggesting that there should be a search for internation­ alism, rather than nationalism? Brown: Exactly. I’d like to say that we consider ourselves inter­ national filmmakers, not American filmmakers. We have never produc­ ed, or even been executives of, a purely parochial or national film entity. At 20th Century-Fox we placed a substantial investment in - Australian theatres and it is to our advantage to find subjects for countries where we have substantial markets. If I were a member of the Australian film industry I would seek out somebody who knows the world market in terms of material. There is no reason why the British film industry should be making films which don’t sell in France. There are countries like France and Italy which can produce national films and recover their cost' and profits in their own market, but we say unequivocally: show us a sub­ ject that has world potential and we will be in Australia next week, buy­ ing the book, or screenplay (as we did Jaws). We never think of mak­ ing a film in any place except where the story takes place. ★


Guide for Australian Film Producers Continued from P. 377 PRECEDENT 2: LITERARY PURCHASE AGREEMENT MEMORANDUM OF AGREEMENT made the day of 1976 between XVZ Publishing Compamny of Melbourne in the State of Victoria Australia, Book Publishers (herinafter called "the owner” ) of the first part and ABC Films Pty Ltd of Melbourne In the State of Victoria Australia (hereinafter called “ the purchaser” ) of the other part, WHEREAS, the Owner is the sole owner throughout the world of all rights (except as herein expressly provided) in and to the literary or dramatic work described as follows: Title: "Cinema Papers" Written by: Joe Melbourne (herein sometimes referred to as “ Author” ), consisting of an unpublished novel In the process of being written, (which literary or dramatic work, and the plots, themes, titles, characters and copyright thereof, and any translations, novelizations, dramatizations, sequels and other adaptations or versions thereof now or hereafter created, are herein together referred to as the "Property"); and WHEREAS on the day of the Owner pursuant to an option agreement granted to the Purchaser an option to acquire the rights. WHEREAS, the Purchaser, relying upon Owner's representations and warranties hereunder, desires to acquire the rights hereinafter granted in and to the Property, NOW THIS AGREEMENT WITNESSETH and be parties hereto mutually agree as follows: 1. The Owner hereby sells, grants, conveys and assigns to the Purchaser, Its successors, licensees and assigns exclusively and forever, all motion picture rights (including all silent, sound, dialogue and musical motion pic­ ture and other television rights (other than live television rights), together with limited live television rights, limited radio broadcasting rights and 10,­ 000 word publication rights for advertisement, publicity and exploitation purposes, in and to the Property throughout the world and in and to the copyright, Including (without in any limiting or restricting the grant of rights hereinabove made) the following sole and exclusive rights throughout the world: (a) To make, produce, adapt, sell, lease, rent, reissue, perform and generally deal In and with and to copyright one or more motion picture adaptations or versions based in whole or in part on the Property, of every size, gauge, color or type, whether produced for exhibition theatrically, non-theatrically or otherwise, including musical motion pic­ tures and remakes of and sequels to any motion picture produced hereunder, and for such purposes to record and reproduce and license others to reproduce In synchronization with such motion pictures, spoken words taken from or based upon the text or theme of the Proper­ ty and any and all kinds of music, musical accompaniments and/or lyrics to be performed or sung by the performers in any such motion pic­ ture and any and all other kinds of sound and sound effects. (b) to broadcast, transmit or reproduce the Property or any adaptation or version thereof (including, but not limited to, any motion picture produced hereunder and/or any script or other material based on or utilizing the Property or any of the characters, themes or plots thereof), by means of television or any other process analogous thereto whether now known or hereafter devised (Including commercially sponsored, sustaining and subscription or pay-as-you-see television), through the use of motion pictures produced on films or by means of magnetic tape or wire or any other device now known or hereafter devised, and in­ cluding such television productions presented in series or serial form, and the exclusive right generally to exercise for television purposes all of the rights granted to Purchaser hereunder for motion picture purposes. (c) To broadcast and/or transmit by means of television or radio or any process analogous thereto whether now known or hereafter devised, all or any part of the Property or any adaptation or version thereof, in­ cluding any motion picture or other version or versions, which broad­ casts or transmissions may be accomplished through the use of living actors, performing simultaneously with such broadcast or transmission or by any other method or means including the use of motion pictures (including trailers) reproduced on film or by means of magnetic tape or wire or through the use of other recordings or transcriptions. (d) To publish and copyright or cause to be published and copyrighted in the name of Purchaser or its nominee in any and all languages throughout the world, in any form or media, synopses, novelizations, serialization, dramatization, abridged and/or revised versions of the Property, not exceeding 10,000 words each, adapted from the Property or from any motion picture and/or other version of the Property for the purpose of advertising, publicizing and/or exploiting any such motion picture and/or other version. (e) For the foregoing purposes to use all or any part of the Property and any of the characters, plots, themes and/or Ideas therein contained, and the title of the Property and any title or subtitle of any component of the Property, and to use said titles or subtitles In connection with any motion picture or other version or adaption whether or not the same Is based on or adapted from the Property and/or as the title of any musical composi­ tion contained In any such motion picture or other version or adaptation. (f) To use and exploit commercial or merchandise tie-ups and recor­ dings of any sort and nature arising out of or connected with the Proper­ ty and/or its motion picture or other versions and/or the title or titles thereof a n d /o r the characters thereof a n d /o r their names or characteristics. All rights, licenses, privileges and property herein granted to the Purchaser shall be cumulative and the Purchaser may exercise or use any or all of said rights, licenses, privileges or property simultaneously with or in connection with or separately and apart from the exercise of any other rights, licences, privileges and property which the Owner hereafter may make, publish or permit to be made or published any revision, adaptation, sequel, translation or dramatization or other versions of the Property, then Purchaser shall have and Owner hereby grants to Purchaser without pay­ ment therefore all of the same rights therein as are herein granted Purchaser. 2. The Owner shall not authorize or permit the transmission or projection of any production, dramatization or adaptation of the Property by means of television or any process analogous hereto for the purpose of exhibition or reproduction at any theater or place of public assembly, or for exhibition or reproduction in private homes, theaters or elsewhere if any viewing fee or charge is imposed or collected as consideration from the persons observ­ ing such transmission or projection, whether paid directly or Indirectly or by means of cash, tokens, credit or any .other manner not known or hereafter devised. 3. The Owner shall not: (a) exercise or authorize or permit the exercise of, or to sell, license or otherwise dispose of, any of Owners live television rights in the Property until five (5) years after the first general release in Australia of the first motion picture produced hereunder based in whole or in part on the Property, or seven (7) years after the date of this agreement, whichever of said periods shall first expire; (b) exercise or authorize or permit the exercise of, or to sell, licence or otherwise dispose of, any of the Owner's radio broadcasting rights or dramatic rights in the Property until three (3) years after the first general release in Australia of the first motion picture produced hereunder based in whole or in part on the Property, or five (5) years after the date of this agreement, whichever of said periods shall first expire. •

T O P 10

4. The Owner agrees that the Purchaser shall have the unlimited right'to vary, change, alter, modify, add to and/or delete from the Property, and to rearrange and/or transpose the Property and change the sequence thereof and the characters contained in the Property, and to use a portion or portions of the Property or the characters, plots or theme thereof in con­ junction with any other literary dramatic or other material of any kind. The Owner hereby waives the benefits of any provision of law known as the droit moral or any similar law in any country of the world and agrees not to institute, support, maintain or permit any action or lawsuit on the ground that any motion pictures or other version of the Property produced or ex­ hibited by the Purchaser, its assignees or licensees, in any way constitutes an infringement of any of the Author’s droit moral or is in any way a defamation or mutilation of the Property or any part thereof or contains un­ authorized variations, alterations, modifications, changes or translations. 5. The Purchaser shall enjoy, solely and exclusively, all of the rights, licenses, privileges and property granted hereunder throughout the world, In perpetuity, as long as any rights in the Property are recognized in law or . equity, except insofar as such period of perpetuity may be shortened due to any now existing or future copyright by the Owner of the Property and/or any adaptations thereof, in which case Purchaser shall enjoy Its sole and exclusive rights, licenses, privileges and property hereunder to the fullest extent permissible under and for the full duration of such copyright or copyrights, whether common law Or statutory, and any and all renewals and/or extensions thereof, and shall thereafter enjoy all said rights, licenses, privileges and property non-exclusively in perpetuity throughout the world. All the rights, licenses, privileges and property herein granted to Purchaser are irrevocable and not subject to rescission, restraint or in­ junction under any and all circumstances. 6. As full and complete consideration for all of the rights herein granted and assigned to Purchaser and for the representations and warranties of the Owner hereunder, the Purchaser agrees to pay to the Owner, and the Owner agrees to accept Ten Thousand Dollars ($10,000.00) payable upon exercise of the option. 7. Owner hereby represents and warrants that: (a) The Author referred to on Page 1 hereof is the sole author of the Property and Owner is the sole and.exclusive owner and proprietor throughout the world of the Property and any and all rights therein (ex­ cept as herein expressly provided otherwise), Including without lim ita­ tion all rights In and to the Property granted to the Purchaser hereunder; and the Owner has the full right, power and authority to enter Into this agreement and to grant to the Purchaser all the rights herein provided for. (b) Except as expressly provided herein the Property has not been published or copyrighted or registered for copyright, and no motion picture, television, radio, dramatic or other version or adaptation of the Property has heretofore been made, produced, perform ed, copyrighted or registered for copyright, In any country of the world, and the Property is not In the public domain in any country of the world which provides for copyright or similar protection. (c) The Property is wholly original with the Author, and no Incident therein or part thereof is taken from, based upon or adapted from any other literary material, dramatic work or motion picture and the full use of the Property, or any part thereof, as herein granted, will not in any way violate or infringe upon any copyright (common law or statutory) belonging to any person, firm or corporation, or constitute a libel or defamation of, or an invasion of the rights of privacy of, or otherwise violate or infringe upon any other right or rights whatsoever of any per­ son, firm or corporation. (d) The Owner has not assigned or licensed to any other person, firm or corporation, or in any manner encumbered, any of the rights herein granted to the Purchaser with respect to the Property Including the title thereof and any of the characters or other material therein contained, or committed any act by which any of said rights could or might be diminished or impaired, and there are no rights, licenses and/or grants of any kind in favor of any person, firm or corporation and no claims, litigation or other proceedings pending or threatened, which could in any way impair, limit, diminish or infringe upon the rights herein granted to the Purchaser. 7. The Owner will not at any time hereafter execute any other agreement in conflict herewith or In any way attempt to sell, dispose of, encumber any of the rights herein granted to Purchaser with respect to the Property in­ cluding the title thereof and any of the characters or other material therein contained, or do or knowingly permit to be done any act or thing by which said rights may be impaired. 8. The Owner will not use or permit the use of any of the rights in the Property not granted to Purchaser in any manner or for any purpose which would unfairly compete with the full and unrestricted use of the rights herein granted to Purchaser. 9. The Owner agrees to indemnify and hold harmless the Purchaser and -its licensees, successors and assigns, from and against any and all damages, losses, judgments, costs and expenses (including reasonable counsel fees) sustained, suffered, paid or incurred by Purchaser or its licensees, successors or assigns as a result of or in connection with any breach or alleged breach of any warranty, undertaking, representation or agreement made or entered into hereunder by the Owner.

desire to give to the Owner hereunder may be delivered to the Owner per­ sonally or sent to the Owner by mall or telegraph at or such other address as Owner may designate in writing. Any notices that the Owner may be required or may desire to give to the Purchaser may be delivered personally to the Purchaser or sent to the Purchaser by mail or telegraph at or at such other address or addresses as the Purchaser may from time to time designate in writing. The date of mailing or delivery to the telegraph office, as the case may be, of any notice or payment hereunder, shall be deemed the date of service of such notice or making of such payment. 16. Wherever the context of this agreement requires it the masculine shall be deemed to Include the feminine and the neuter, and the singular shall be deemed to include the plural, and when more than one person or party executes this agreement as the “ Owner” , then each and all of the persons, firms or corporations executing this agreement as the “ Owner” shall be deemed to have jointly and severally made and entered into all of the terms, covenants, agreements, representations and warranties herein con­ tained and shall be jointly and severally obligated and bound thereby, ex­ cepting only where otherwise expressly indicated to the contrary herein. 17. The proper law of this contract shall be the law of the State of Victoria. 18. This agreement, including all of the foregoing provisions and all ex­ hibits made a part hereof, expresses the entire understanding and agree­ ment of the parties hereto and replaces any and all prior agreements or understandings, whether written or oral, relating in any way to the subject matter or this agreement. This agreement cannot be modified, amended or supplemented except by a written Instrument or instruments executed by each of the parties hereto. IN WITNESSETH Whereof the parties have hereunto executed this agree­ ment the day and the year first hereinbefore written. The Common Seal of XYZ Publishing Co. was hereto offered In the presence of:

The Common Seal of ABC Films Pty. Ltd. was hereto affixed in the presenfe of:


Top 10 Continued from P.377 Hennesy (Sharp) Return of the Pink Panther (Edwards) At Long Last Love (Bogdanovich) Rape Squad Bucktown Mark of the Devil Royal Flash (Lester) A Girl called Julia Ginger Hot and Naked Check My Oil Baby Sweet and Sexy Tales of Eritoca The Manhandlers Mamma’s Girls Confessions of a Pop Performer (Guest) Summertime Killer The Coming of Seymour e Lollipop Dunderklumpen The Entertainer Slade in Flame The Sexplorer It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time Barry Lyndon (Kubrick) The Man Who Would Be King (Huston) Family Jewels Aloha, Bobby and Rose Ride a Wild Pony (Chaffey) Danish Love Acts Australia After Dark (Lammond) Race With the Devil (Starrett) Dress Your Flesh with Desire Morelia, Girl of Pleasure Sexier than Sex Love Hungry Girls (Angel).


10; The Owner hereby grants to the Purchaser the free and unrestricted right, by and at Purchaser’s own cost and expense, to Institute in the name and on behalf of the Owner, or the Owner and Purchaser jointly, any and all suits and proceedings In law or In equity, to enjoin and restrain any In­ fringements of the rights herein granted, and hereby assigns to Purchaser any and all causes of action arising or resulting by reason of or based upon any such infringement, any and all causes of action arising or resulting by reason of or based upon any such infringement, all recoveries obtained in any such action. The Owner shall not compromise, settle or in any manner Interfere with such litigation if brought. 11. In the event that the Owner shall fail to do or cause to be done any act or thing necessary to obtain a renewal of the copyright in the Property, or if the Owner shall fail to execute and deliver to the Purchaser any further assignments or Instruments required of the Owner under the provisions of this agreement, then to the extent that Owner shall legally be entitled to renew such copyright or to execute, acknowledge and deliver such assignments or other instruments, the Owner hereby appoints Purchaser his Irrevocable agent with the right, but not the obligation, to do any and all acts and things necessary to obtain such renewal of copyright and to ex­ ecute, acknowledge and deliver any and all such further assignments and other Instruments, In the name of and on behalf of the Owner, which ap­ pointment shall be deemed to be a power coupled with an interest and shall be irrevocable. 12. The Purchaser Is hereby granted the right to use the name and likeness and biography of the Author in connection with the advertising, publicizing and exploitation of any motion pictures produced hereunder and/or any other use or exploitation of any of the rights herein granted to the Purchaser with respect to the Property. 13. The Purchaser may assign and transfer this agreement or all or any part of its rights hereunder to any person, firm or corporation without limitation, and this agreement shall be binding upon and inure to the benefit of the parties hereto and their successors, representatives and assigns, forever. 14. Nothing herein contained shall be construed to obligate the Purchaser to produce, distribute, release, perform or exhibit any motion picture, television, theatrical or other production based upon, adapted from or suggested by the Property, in whole or In part, or likewise to exercise, ex­ ploit or make any use of any of the rights, licenses, privileges or property herein granted to Purchaser. 15.


All notices or payments which the Purchaser may be required or may

Cinema Papers, March-April — 383



OUR ASIAN NEIGHBOURS is a program of films which aims to convey everyday life in Asia. The first of the series, covered Thailand. This series is devoted to Indonesia and brings to life its people, customs and their music. Each film captures the lifestyle of the people in their own environment and vividly identifies with the viewer. These films are made so as to stimulate interest in and to promote a greater understanding of our asian neighbours. The stories are told with visual impact and the music is, in most cases, the actual sounds recorded on location; the actors are the people themselves who live, work and play in this absorbing and fascinating region.

FILM AUSTRALIA Eton Road Lindfield (PO Box 46 Lindfield] NSW 2070 Australia Telephone 463241 Telegrams 'Filmaust'Sydney Telex 22734

British and U.S. enquiries through Australian Film Commission Representatives: Canberra House, 10-16 Maltravers Street, The Strand, London. WC2R 3EH. Australian Information Service, 636 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10020, and at all Australian official posts abroad.


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suwnraTN momilm m

r The South Australian Film Corporation Is a total film enterprise Involved in film research, production, marketing, distribution and library services, established by the state government and operating both nationally and internationally.

Producers: Gil Brealey, Matt Carroll. Director: Ken Hannam Original Screenplay: John Dingwall


Produced by McElroy & McElroy in association with Patricia Lovell. Filmed with the South Australian Film Corporation and B.E.F. Distributors.



Executive Producer, Jill C. Robb; Producer, John Morris; Director, Don Chaffey.

South Australian Film Corporation


64 Fullarton Road, Norwood, S.A. Telephone 42 4973 (S.T.D. CODE 08) G.P.O. Box 2019, Adelaide, S.A. 5001. Australia. Telex: SAFC AA88206.



ra os lavourire premium

Cinema Papers #8 March-April 1976  
Cinema Papers #8 March-April 1976