
Peter MALONE
Saturday, 18 September 2021 18:57
Baz Luhrmann
BAZ LUHRMAN

How did you make Romeo and Juliet, especially with the backing of a major Hollywood studio?
It was an incredibly difficult film to get made. After Strictly Ballroom we were offered all kinds of possibilities. We spent a long time not being involved in making a film. We went and did other things: operas, the 1993 Australian Labor Party election launch, a Vogue magazine layout and other things. Our philosophy has always been that we think up what we need in our life, choose something creative that will make that life fulfilling, and then follow that road. With Romeo and Juliet what I wanted to do was to look at the way in which Shakespeare might make a movie of one of his plays if he was a director. How would he make it?
We don't know a lot about Shakespeare, but we do know he would make a `movie' movie. He was a player. We know about the Elizabethan stage and that he was playing for 3000 drunken punters, from the street sweeper to the Queen of England - and his competition was bear-baiting and prostitution. So he was a relentless entertainer and a user of incredible devices and theatrical tricks to ultimately create something of meaning and convey a story.
That was what we wanted to do. We were interested in that experience. It wasn't that Fox rang up. There's this kind of story in America: `How clever. What genius at the studio rang you up and said, `Do a funky MTV-style Shakespeare and wipe the floor with all the other pictures, go to number 1 and get the kids in'?' That was not the case.
Basically it was no, no, no, but because I had made a film about ballroom dancing and it grossed $80,000,000, I was in a first-look deal, and I said, `Look, don't say yes. Give me a few thousand dollars'. I rang up Leonardo di Caprio, whom I consider to be an incredibly important part of actually getting the film made, and he agreed to fly to Sydney himself, pay his own money. I mean, this was a kid who's been offered the incomes of small countries! We did an initial workshop, did more script work. He flew down again and with local actors we created this workshop; and when they saw him (in the fight scene) get out of the car in a suit and come up and say,
Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
doth much excuse the appertaining rage
to such a greeting. Villain am I none;
therefore farewell; I see thou knowest me not,
they went, `Oh, yeah, I get it. They're kind of like gangs. Yeah, that could work. Gangs, that's good, that's good'.
So then the executives said, `All right, we'll give him enough money to get to production'. So it was sort of a war of attrition and, eventually, I got to a point where they said, `Look, just give him a cheque' and, you know, `See ya'!
Then we had the problems of making it. It was an enormously difficult shoot: storms, sickness and kidnappings.
In Mexico?
Pre-production was all here in Australia and all the development. Then we pre-produced in Canada. And then we shot in Mexico. We did most post-production in Australia, that is, we did all the sound here in Melbourne at Soundfilm, all the optical effects here at Complete Post. So, it's technically a Canadian-Australian? co-production distributed by 20th Century-Fox?. But, in reality, it's my team. At a certain point I was flying 16 Australians, DOP, producer, editor, costume designer, production designer, music guys, assistants, choreographer, special effects, sound, et cetera to North America.
So to answer the question: it was very hard to convince them. Once I had convinced them, they were fantastic but kind of like, `Look, you know, he does these weird things, they seem to work. This one won't, of course. But let's let him make this and when it turkeys, he'll be ready to do Jingle All The Way. He'll be begging us to let him do Arnie's next picture'!
Hollywood! People have many wrong ideas about Hollywood: firstly, it's much worse than The Player, much more bizarre. In fact it's a community in the desert, made up of people from all over the world, the best people from all over the world.
Now, what normally happens with the internationals - and most players in Hollywood are internationals - is that they are hired with their producer and they pick up American teams. One of my non-negotiables is that I work with my team - we work together, we are a team, we are an environment. Since the success of Romeo and Juliet, I now have an unprecedented deal where working with my team is actually ensconced in the deal.
Do they reject us - no, they don't. I mean, half of the best people in Hollywood are Australians! I think a huge percentage of the DPs are Australians.
The preparation?
I wanted to do Shakespeare makes a film, Romeo and Juliet. The first thing to identify was a way of conveying the notions of the piece and release the language. A device would be to set it in a particular world. You couldn't set it in the real world because it would then become a social exploration of Miami or LA or Sydney, whatever. So we decided to create a world. That world was created from meticulous research of the Elizabethan world. For example, a social reality for the Elizabethan world was that everyone carried a weapon. Then we found a way of interpreting that in the 20th century. There were schools of swordfighting; they became schools of gunfighting. Only gentlemen would carry weapons, not the poor. Suddenly you had a place that looked a bit like South America, but it also looked like Miami. We picked the dominant culture. Whatever you say, the dominant culture in the western world is American, especially through the media.
So we created a world - it's American, Latin, it looks a bit like South America, it feels a bit like Mexico, it feels somewhat like Miami but, ultimately, it's Verona Beach, which is ultimately a universal city. Now, that is not so out of keeping with what Shakespeare did. He never went to Verona. He created his mythical city. But really it was London - dressed up as a hot version of London. So that was that part of the process.
Then we spent a lot of time researching the Elizabethan stage and then we put that into cinematic ideas. We went to Miami because we chose Miami as a really good place that identified or condensed American or contemporary western images. It is both culturally mixed and also a very violent city, almost an armed society.
Then, out of that research we wrote the screenplay. We came back and did a series of workshops with actors in Sydney. Then I got Don McAlpine? in who, for free, got a video camera and, for a week, we shot scenes with Leonardo, the fight scene, the death scene.
We are noted for doing a ludicrous amount of preparation. And we are noted for ridiculous kind of research, but this is what we like to do - the act of making must make your life rich. It's got to be interesting and fulfilling and educational and take you on a journey. They're the choices we make.
The only sacrifice you have to make is fiscally. To have been very, very wealthy would have been easy after Strictly Ballroom. I'm not poor, but the kind of wealth that I know others have is not ours because we choose to do the Bard in a funky manner. That's more interesting than doing Jingle All The Way! But, also, we're not for hire; we never have been. Freedom is worth something.
So it's not just a relocation of Romeo and Juliet to a different city and it's not even an updating, bringing it into the 20th century?
I think what we are doing is William Shakespeare's play of Romeo and Juliet and interpreting it in 20th century images to release the language and to find a style for communicating it to a contemporary audience. Now, you might say, `Well, that's a bit of a mouthful', and it is. I got a card from Kenny Brannagh saying, `Look, love the film and what a great thing for our Hamlet, because it's opening up an audience too'. I love the Laurence Olivier productions and I think Kenneth Branagh is fantastic.
In fact, some critics have left the film and said, `The accent is completely wrong. How dare you do it that way. It's embarrassing'. The truth of the matter is that Shakespeare wrote these plays for an American accent. Americans speak a version of Elizabethan sound. With a rolled R in there, you would basically have the Elizabethan stage sound. I worked with Sir Peter Hall on this. He does the accent. He came to Canada and did it for me. Now, it doesn't mean we should do all Shakespeare in the Elizabethan sound. But round-vowelled English pronunciation is a fashion. It was just the right way or the right fashion or the right device for a particular time to tell or reveal the play for that time.
To have Leonardo di Caprio asking, `Is she a Capulet? in a southern Californian accent is not too far from the Elizabethan stage sound; it is just another way of revealing the language. So it's not wrong. It's not the only way, but it's not wrong. I had a great triumph when two Californian academics, after a kind of Mr Ex-English? teacher/`I've become a local critic of the Boulder Daily News' declared the film was an outrage, stood up and said, `Well, in fact, Mr Luhrman is correct about this'. A professor from the University of California said it's been in the New York Times in the critics' notes and an editorial - it makes for ticket sales really. And who cares?
I mean, the truth is this: the one thing we know is we don't know much about Shakespeare, but he was sure as hell focused on box office and he is not displeased that he's packing the houses. I know! William Shakespeare was an actor in a company that was competing with another. All they cared about was packing the house. Who is worried that we put rock music in? Oh, here's the news - he put popular songs of the time in his shows because it was a good way of telling a story!
In terms of liberating the language, the cast had a strong sense of the rhythm, the poetry. Dustin Hoffman did Shylock in The Merchant of
Venice on Broadway but he lacked a sense of the verse rhythms.
Do you know what I think that is? Dustin Hoffman is a fantastic actor, but what you get there is a brand of American actor that has this reverential attitude towards the English Shakespearian style, so you get a mid-Atlantic feel. Americans don't use their natural sound. They adjust their sound, and they try to take on a kind of subtle interpretation of what an English actor would do with the language. Leonardo and Clare, in their innocence, brought the language to themselves. Iambic pentameter is a natural rhythm for speaking and thoughts beat roughly in that iambic way. And they were able to find rhythm without it becoming a signpost.
There are different styles that the other actors use because they're such different characters. We've got clowning characters, the parental world, which is like a bizarre acid trip. Then you've got Father Laurence, who is midway. But the kids are really human and natural, so they're the most natural.
It's not right, it's not wrong. It's wonderful to hear Laurence Olivier say, `Now, is the winter of our discontent'. And it's fantastic to hear Kenny Branagh chomp it a bit more like Midlands sound. It's also great to hear Leonardo di Caprio in those soft Californian sounds say, `Tybalt, the reason I have to love you'.
The visual style helped liberate the language and break down the barriers?
It actually isn't visual style. Even on the Elizabethan stage they wore their day clothes. When it came to doing the balcony scene, they would find a usual device to free and clarify story and language.
It is true we are intensely visual, and that intense visual language has to be freeing, not oppressing. We make pictures. Cinema is like opera, strangely. That's why cinema directors do a lot of opera and vice-versa, but not necessarily plays. They are the synthesis of the visual, the plastic, the written, the acted, the audible, the audio arts, synthesising all those things into one singular statement. There is no rule. If someone says there's only one way to do it, that's the way, I've got the book', you know they're talking crap because stories do not change. But the way you tell them has to be a product of the times. I'd call my book about my work, `The Way I Tell It', but in the telling, the visual representation is a good 50% of that.
On the visuals, you have a great number of Catholic statues and images.
We shot in Mexico and Mexico is very, very, very Catholic with Catholic iconography everywhere. The giant statue in the middle of the city, that is Mexico City, with Jesus' statue put in the middle of the city. That's an electronic addition. All the iconography was about the fact of the plot point that when you marry, it is in the eyes of God. Families can't pull the couple apart. So the slightly-on-the-edge priest says, `but actually, if you do get married, the families can't do anything about it; so it's a way of forcing them to stop running around killing each other'. It's a key plot point in the play. It's very weak dramatically. So you have to have the audience believe that no-one questions religion, no-one questions the existence of God or the power of Jesus Christ. So when Juliet says, `No, if thy love be honourable, thy purpose marriage', Romeo could not say, `Look, you don't have to get married to have sex'. There's no argument about the fact that they existed in a religious context in terms of their thinking and beliefs. So it turned out like an Italian/Mexican/South American location. I mean, when you're in Mexico, religion is absolutely wrapped up with politics.
This Mediterranean, Hispanic piety is strong, as in the shrine in Juliet's room with so many statues of Mary, so many candles. Even the seedy
apothecary has holy cards on his counter.
There's a lot there and they're on the weapons as well. Now, some can say that's sacrilegious. No-one has, actually - it's been a bit of a surprise - but the truth is that's an interpretation of religion in our societies. You can have an armed society like Bosnia, where everyone's running around claiming they uphold Christian notions, or Mexico where it's all very Catholic and yet you go into a restaurant and people are holding guns.
In the Elizabethan times a lot of that iconography was put upon weapons of war - and I always think that's a very disturbing notion. So it's not a judgment or an analysis of any kind of religion; it's about saying that everyone has to have a belief in a certain set of rules.
And the cross on Father Laurence's back?
Well, Father Laurence is very important but, actually, in the play Laurence is a bit of an idiot. You remember that the Elizabethan world was slashing away at Catholicism. The good news is just because he's a priest he's not God, he's a human being. I think Father Laurence is a great character and a good person, but he's had sin himself to deal with. He's had a struggle with the human condition himself. He's not perfect.
Our scenario was that he went off to Vietnam and he was into drugs. He was tussling with his own personal dilemmas. Maybe he had a wife and a child or whatever, but he went back to the church and really he is a good person. He really wants good to be done and really believes in the ideas of Christ and God. But he's not this guy in a white caftan who says, `I have a wonderful idea. Let's marry and all will be hunky-dory'. So I was showing him to be a complex man - you know, he's a drinker. I quite like the idea - it's an old-fashioned idea - that Spencer Tracy always played priests but secretly he was a drunk, which doesn't say he's bad. I think priests that are flawed are at least more human. If you reveal it, you're therefore truthful. You're saying, `I'm a human being. I'm not a deity'. I have a slight problem with the deity version of priesthood, as I'm sure certain churches do.
Your sets? Do you ever think, `This is just too much? This is overwhelming?'
Do you mean too much in terms of its effectiveness in the storytelling or just incredibly decadent?
No, just in sheer extravagance.
Let me give you an extravagance. That pool: that entire outdoor pool is a set, interior built. It was made from concrete and it was filled with water. The day we walked off the set, in a frenzy to go up to Verona Beach, they had drained it the day before and now there were guys with jackhammers just tearing it to pieces. It was a million-dollar pool. It's a weird little world, film-making, and you do weird little things. One of the things I hate is waste, and I was not able to avoid the kind of waste I would like to avoid. Everything you see on that beach is built. There's not a palm tree or a telegraph pole on that beach that wasn't put there by us. It was a desert.
The illusion of film is fascinating and difficult but tricky. We were able to do things in Mexico that you can't do anywhere else in the world. We had this one chopper, that big white one, but it seems like a flotilla of choppers. You can tell the electronic ones, we're not trying to hide that too much. The military guy in the chopper in silhouette early on, sitting, pointing with a gun - that's me. And Don Mc Alpine, we're just in a Bell chopper, the camera chopper, and he's there with the camera, hand-holding, and I'm just strapped in. And we've got all these stunt guys dressed up and flying through Mexico City - I mean, in the middle of Mexico City - and they were hanging out of the chopper. I'm just pointing out the kind of bizarreness in what needs to happen to get a scene is always extraordinary.
I'll give you an example of the surrealness of it: flying, looking for Mantua. We're flying over the desert. We're up in a chopper. We see tiny little sheds. So we fly down, we land, and the wind blows everything. The villagers live in cardboard boxes. Our Mexican interpreter says, `Look, we want to make a film... and we're going to build some things here, but we'll leave everything for you and we're going to pay you this money'. They're over the moon. So we came back. We built the entire Mantua, everything you see in Mantua, all those shacks, the cars, everything, like a town. And they bring all their cars and they're all employed and they're all great. Then we shoot and we're always desperately behind. So all the trucks leave the next morning. We get the final shot. We leave and, as we're leaving, they're all waving. And there's a town left behind where their little shacks were, and it's their little town now. I mean, there is a surrealness about that. There's a big sign now that says Mantua.
Talking of names - why William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet?
Things are marketed very intensely in the US. Because it was modern images and because it was Romeo and Juliet, of which there are many Romeo and Juliets - even Shakespeare stole the story from other sources - with the way their minds work, it would be, `Let's just flog it as a kind of funky-looking movie called Romeo and Juliet and not mention Shakespeare'. So by forcing them to put William Shakespeare in there, no matter what they did to it, there was no question that it was the play.
Not only is it the text, but the Zefirelli version, which everyone thinks is the Elizabethan show, actually has additional dialogue and does actually change the text. From, `Do with their death bury their parents' strife', not, `Doth with their death...' I'm not criticising that, because I think it's a gorgeous production of 1968. But we are textually more accurate. We have cut about a third - under a half, which is probably normal. Zeffirelli cut half the text.
Actors love Shakespeare because it's like giving them a sports car. They have a lot to say, and actors like to talk, God knows. It was a meticulous rehearsal process, but they dug it. There's no actor on that show that's not happy. Brian Dennehy had three lines. He's a terrific stage actor. I just asked him. I said, `Look, I really need someone who could really believe he's Leonardo's father and someone with real credibility and who has good craft'.
You bring Shakespeare to the people. Was that a surprise that it's done so well and seems to have introduced many Americans, at least, to Shakespeare?
Being number 1 was a surprise to everyone. Being number 1 in America is like saying, `I don't care what it is; I want it', to the industry. It killed Sleepers. That was a $70,000,000 film with Robert de Niro, Brad Pitt and Dustin Hoffman. In a town where, `What do you mean, Shakespeare's number 1? How come you didn't tell me about it?', it means a lot. But yes, I wanted to take it back to where it began, and that was for everybody. It was for everybody.
With such box office you'd almost be subject to a deity principle now, wouldn't you?
More the alchemy principle, I think. What we've done in our two sorties is that we've turned lead to gold. To understand means gold so, therefore, we must understand something about the audience that they don't. Frankly, no-one knows anything, and those that do what we do are only paid because they have a better instinct than others. They don't know. I don't really know. I know what I'd like to see out there, and we have the audacity and the guts and, I suppose, the sort of energy to sustain the fight to get it done.
So what has that left me with? Well, I was certainly offered higher cash deals, much more wealthy deals, by other studios, but with Fox, they embraced the notion that I wanted to work from Australia and that I work with a large team in an idiosyncratic way in which we work. The truth is it's not just about film. I don't think we're film-makers or directors or whatever. We tell stories. So what we have purchased or won is the ability to think something up and do it.
Post-script: a report in the Melbourne Herald- Sun for 1 January 1997 said that for the four days after Christmas, Romeo and Juliet topped the box-office with $A 2,277,014 while Daylight took $A 2,235,000. Baz Luhrmann is quoted: We feel very proud that an idea launched in Australia has been embraced so wholeheartedly and I know Shakespeare will be happy to hear that he outgrossed Sylvester Stallone.
Interview: 19th December 1996

How did you make Romeo and Juliet, especially with the backing of a major Hollywood studio?
It was an incredibly difficult film to get made. After Strictly Ballroom we were offered all kinds of possibilities. We spent a long time not being involved in making a film. We went and did other things: operas, the 1993 Australian Labor Party election launch, a Vogue magazine layout and other things. Our philosophy has always been that we think up what we need in our life, choose something creative that will make that life fulfilling, and then follow that road. With Romeo and Juliet what I wanted to do was to look at the way in which Shakespeare might make a movie of one of his plays if he was a director. How would he make it?
We don't know a lot about Shakespeare, but we do know he would make a `movie' movie. He was a player. We know about the Elizabethan stage and that he was playing for 3000 drunken punters, from the street sweeper to the Queen of England - and his competition was bear-baiting and prostitution. So he was a relentless entertainer and a user of incredible devices and theatrical tricks to ultimately create something of meaning and convey a story.
That was what we wanted to do. We were interested in that experience. It wasn't that Fox rang up. There's this kind of story in America: `How clever. What genius at the studio rang you up and said, `Do a funky MTV-style Shakespeare and wipe the floor with all the other pictures, go to number 1 and get the kids in'?' That was not the case.
Basically it was no, no, no, but because I had made a film about ballroom dancing and it grossed $80,000,000, I was in a first-look deal, and I said, `Look, don't say yes. Give me a few thousand dollars'. I rang up Leonardo di Caprio, whom I consider to be an incredibly important part of actually getting the film made, and he agreed to fly to Sydney himself, pay his own money. I mean, this was a kid who's been offered the incomes of small countries! We did an initial workshop, did more script work. He flew down again and with local actors we created this workshop; and when they saw him (in the fight scene) get out of the car in a suit and come up and say,
Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
doth much excuse the appertaining rage
to such a greeting. Villain am I none;
therefore farewell; I see thou knowest me not,
they went, `Oh, yeah, I get it. They're kind of like gangs. Yeah, that could work. Gangs, that's good, that's good'.
So then the executives said, `All right, we'll give him enough money to get to production'. So it was sort of a war of attrition and, eventually, I got to a point where they said, `Look, just give him a cheque' and, you know, `See ya'!
Then we had the problems of making it. It was an enormously difficult shoot: storms, sickness and kidnappings.
In Mexico?
Pre-production was all here in Australia and all the development. Then we pre-produced in Canada. And then we shot in Mexico. We did most post-production in Australia, that is, we did all the sound here in Melbourne at Soundfilm, all the optical effects here at Complete Post. So, it's technically a Canadian-Australian? co-production distributed by 20th Century-Fox?. But, in reality, it's my team. At a certain point I was flying 16 Australians, DOP, producer, editor, costume designer, production designer, music guys, assistants, choreographer, special effects, sound, et cetera to North America.
So to answer the question: it was very hard to convince them. Once I had convinced them, they were fantastic but kind of like, `Look, you know, he does these weird things, they seem to work. This one won't, of course. But let's let him make this and when it turkeys, he'll be ready to do Jingle All The Way. He'll be begging us to let him do Arnie's next picture'!
Hollywood! People have many wrong ideas about Hollywood: firstly, it's much worse than The Player, much more bizarre. In fact it's a community in the desert, made up of people from all over the world, the best people from all over the world.
Now, what normally happens with the internationals - and most players in Hollywood are internationals - is that they are hired with their producer and they pick up American teams. One of my non-negotiables is that I work with my team - we work together, we are a team, we are an environment. Since the success of Romeo and Juliet, I now have an unprecedented deal where working with my team is actually ensconced in the deal.
Do they reject us - no, they don't. I mean, half of the best people in Hollywood are Australians! I think a huge percentage of the DPs are Australians.
The preparation?
I wanted to do Shakespeare makes a film, Romeo and Juliet. The first thing to identify was a way of conveying the notions of the piece and release the language. A device would be to set it in a particular world. You couldn't set it in the real world because it would then become a social exploration of Miami or LA or Sydney, whatever. So we decided to create a world. That world was created from meticulous research of the Elizabethan world. For example, a social reality for the Elizabethan world was that everyone carried a weapon. Then we found a way of interpreting that in the 20th century. There were schools of swordfighting; they became schools of gunfighting. Only gentlemen would carry weapons, not the poor. Suddenly you had a place that looked a bit like South America, but it also looked like Miami. We picked the dominant culture. Whatever you say, the dominant culture in the western world is American, especially through the media.
So we created a world - it's American, Latin, it looks a bit like South America, it feels a bit like Mexico, it feels somewhat like Miami but, ultimately, it's Verona Beach, which is ultimately a universal city. Now, that is not so out of keeping with what Shakespeare did. He never went to Verona. He created his mythical city. But really it was London - dressed up as a hot version of London. So that was that part of the process.
Then we spent a lot of time researching the Elizabethan stage and then we put that into cinematic ideas. We went to Miami because we chose Miami as a really good place that identified or condensed American or contemporary western images. It is both culturally mixed and also a very violent city, almost an armed society.
Then, out of that research we wrote the screenplay. We came back and did a series of workshops with actors in Sydney. Then I got Don McAlpine? in who, for free, got a video camera and, for a week, we shot scenes with Leonardo, the fight scene, the death scene.
We are noted for doing a ludicrous amount of preparation. And we are noted for ridiculous kind of research, but this is what we like to do - the act of making must make your life rich. It's got to be interesting and fulfilling and educational and take you on a journey. They're the choices we make.
The only sacrifice you have to make is fiscally. To have been very, very wealthy would have been easy after Strictly Ballroom. I'm not poor, but the kind of wealth that I know others have is not ours because we choose to do the Bard in a funky manner. That's more interesting than doing Jingle All The Way! But, also, we're not for hire; we never have been. Freedom is worth something.
So it's not just a relocation of Romeo and Juliet to a different city and it's not even an updating, bringing it into the 20th century?
I think what we are doing is William Shakespeare's play of Romeo and Juliet and interpreting it in 20th century images to release the language and to find a style for communicating it to a contemporary audience. Now, you might say, `Well, that's a bit of a mouthful', and it is. I got a card from Kenny Brannagh saying, `Look, love the film and what a great thing for our Hamlet, because it's opening up an audience too'. I love the Laurence Olivier productions and I think Kenneth Branagh is fantastic.
In fact, some critics have left the film and said, `The accent is completely wrong. How dare you do it that way. It's embarrassing'. The truth of the matter is that Shakespeare wrote these plays for an American accent. Americans speak a version of Elizabethan sound. With a rolled R in there, you would basically have the Elizabethan stage sound. I worked with Sir Peter Hall on this. He does the accent. He came to Canada and did it for me. Now, it doesn't mean we should do all Shakespeare in the Elizabethan sound. But round-vowelled English pronunciation is a fashion. It was just the right way or the right fashion or the right device for a particular time to tell or reveal the play for that time.
To have Leonardo di Caprio asking, `Is she a Capulet? in a southern Californian accent is not too far from the Elizabethan stage sound; it is just another way of revealing the language. So it's not wrong. It's not the only way, but it's not wrong. I had a great triumph when two Californian academics, after a kind of Mr Ex-English? teacher/`I've become a local critic of the Boulder Daily News' declared the film was an outrage, stood up and said, `Well, in fact, Mr Luhrman is correct about this'. A professor from the University of California said it's been in the New York Times in the critics' notes and an editorial - it makes for ticket sales really. And who cares?
I mean, the truth is this: the one thing we know is we don't know much about Shakespeare, but he was sure as hell focused on box office and he is not displeased that he's packing the houses. I know! William Shakespeare was an actor in a company that was competing with another. All they cared about was packing the house. Who is worried that we put rock music in? Oh, here's the news - he put popular songs of the time in his shows because it was a good way of telling a story!
In terms of liberating the language, the cast had a strong sense of the rhythm, the poetry. Dustin Hoffman did Shylock in The Merchant of
Venice on Broadway but he lacked a sense of the verse rhythms.
Do you know what I think that is? Dustin Hoffman is a fantastic actor, but what you get there is a brand of American actor that has this reverential attitude towards the English Shakespearian style, so you get a mid-Atlantic feel. Americans don't use their natural sound. They adjust their sound, and they try to take on a kind of subtle interpretation of what an English actor would do with the language. Leonardo and Clare, in their innocence, brought the language to themselves. Iambic pentameter is a natural rhythm for speaking and thoughts beat roughly in that iambic way. And they were able to find rhythm without it becoming a signpost.
There are different styles that the other actors use because they're such different characters. We've got clowning characters, the parental world, which is like a bizarre acid trip. Then you've got Father Laurence, who is midway. But the kids are really human and natural, so they're the most natural.
It's not right, it's not wrong. It's wonderful to hear Laurence Olivier say, `Now, is the winter of our discontent'. And it's fantastic to hear Kenny Branagh chomp it a bit more like Midlands sound. It's also great to hear Leonardo di Caprio in those soft Californian sounds say, `Tybalt, the reason I have to love you'.
The visual style helped liberate the language and break down the barriers?
It actually isn't visual style. Even on the Elizabethan stage they wore their day clothes. When it came to doing the balcony scene, they would find a usual device to free and clarify story and language.
It is true we are intensely visual, and that intense visual language has to be freeing, not oppressing. We make pictures. Cinema is like opera, strangely. That's why cinema directors do a lot of opera and vice-versa, but not necessarily plays. They are the synthesis of the visual, the plastic, the written, the acted, the audible, the audio arts, synthesising all those things into one singular statement. There is no rule. If someone says there's only one way to do it, that's the way, I've got the book', you know they're talking crap because stories do not change. But the way you tell them has to be a product of the times. I'd call my book about my work, `The Way I Tell It', but in the telling, the visual representation is a good 50% of that.
On the visuals, you have a great number of Catholic statues and images.
We shot in Mexico and Mexico is very, very, very Catholic with Catholic iconography everywhere. The giant statue in the middle of the city, that is Mexico City, with Jesus' statue put in the middle of the city. That's an electronic addition. All the iconography was about the fact of the plot point that when you marry, it is in the eyes of God. Families can't pull the couple apart. So the slightly-on-the-edge priest says, `but actually, if you do get married, the families can't do anything about it; so it's a way of forcing them to stop running around killing each other'. It's a key plot point in the play. It's very weak dramatically. So you have to have the audience believe that no-one questions religion, no-one questions the existence of God or the power of Jesus Christ. So when Juliet says, `No, if thy love be honourable, thy purpose marriage', Romeo could not say, `Look, you don't have to get married to have sex'. There's no argument about the fact that they existed in a religious context in terms of their thinking and beliefs. So it turned out like an Italian/Mexican/South American location. I mean, when you're in Mexico, religion is absolutely wrapped up with politics.
This Mediterranean, Hispanic piety is strong, as in the shrine in Juliet's room with so many statues of Mary, so many candles. Even the seedy
apothecary has holy cards on his counter.
There's a lot there and they're on the weapons as well. Now, some can say that's sacrilegious. No-one has, actually - it's been a bit of a surprise - but the truth is that's an interpretation of religion in our societies. You can have an armed society like Bosnia, where everyone's running around claiming they uphold Christian notions, or Mexico where it's all very Catholic and yet you go into a restaurant and people are holding guns.
In the Elizabethan times a lot of that iconography was put upon weapons of war - and I always think that's a very disturbing notion. So it's not a judgment or an analysis of any kind of religion; it's about saying that everyone has to have a belief in a certain set of rules.
And the cross on Father Laurence's back?
Well, Father Laurence is very important but, actually, in the play Laurence is a bit of an idiot. You remember that the Elizabethan world was slashing away at Catholicism. The good news is just because he's a priest he's not God, he's a human being. I think Father Laurence is a great character and a good person, but he's had sin himself to deal with. He's had a struggle with the human condition himself. He's not perfect.
Our scenario was that he went off to Vietnam and he was into drugs. He was tussling with his own personal dilemmas. Maybe he had a wife and a child or whatever, but he went back to the church and really he is a good person. He really wants good to be done and really believes in the ideas of Christ and God. But he's not this guy in a white caftan who says, `I have a wonderful idea. Let's marry and all will be hunky-dory'. So I was showing him to be a complex man - you know, he's a drinker. I quite like the idea - it's an old-fashioned idea - that Spencer Tracy always played priests but secretly he was a drunk, which doesn't say he's bad. I think priests that are flawed are at least more human. If you reveal it, you're therefore truthful. You're saying, `I'm a human being. I'm not a deity'. I have a slight problem with the deity version of priesthood, as I'm sure certain churches do.
Your sets? Do you ever think, `This is just too much? This is overwhelming?'
Do you mean too much in terms of its effectiveness in the storytelling or just incredibly decadent?
No, just in sheer extravagance.
Let me give you an extravagance. That pool: that entire outdoor pool is a set, interior built. It was made from concrete and it was filled with water. The day we walked off the set, in a frenzy to go up to Verona Beach, they had drained it the day before and now there were guys with jackhammers just tearing it to pieces. It was a million-dollar pool. It's a weird little world, film-making, and you do weird little things. One of the things I hate is waste, and I was not able to avoid the kind of waste I would like to avoid. Everything you see on that beach is built. There's not a palm tree or a telegraph pole on that beach that wasn't put there by us. It was a desert.
The illusion of film is fascinating and difficult but tricky. We were able to do things in Mexico that you can't do anywhere else in the world. We had this one chopper, that big white one, but it seems like a flotilla of choppers. You can tell the electronic ones, we're not trying to hide that too much. The military guy in the chopper in silhouette early on, sitting, pointing with a gun - that's me. And Don Mc Alpine, we're just in a Bell chopper, the camera chopper, and he's there with the camera, hand-holding, and I'm just strapped in. And we've got all these stunt guys dressed up and flying through Mexico City - I mean, in the middle of Mexico City - and they were hanging out of the chopper. I'm just pointing out the kind of bizarreness in what needs to happen to get a scene is always extraordinary.
I'll give you an example of the surrealness of it: flying, looking for Mantua. We're flying over the desert. We're up in a chopper. We see tiny little sheds. So we fly down, we land, and the wind blows everything. The villagers live in cardboard boxes. Our Mexican interpreter says, `Look, we want to make a film... and we're going to build some things here, but we'll leave everything for you and we're going to pay you this money'. They're over the moon. So we came back. We built the entire Mantua, everything you see in Mantua, all those shacks, the cars, everything, like a town. And they bring all their cars and they're all employed and they're all great. Then we shoot and we're always desperately behind. So all the trucks leave the next morning. We get the final shot. We leave and, as we're leaving, they're all waving. And there's a town left behind where their little shacks were, and it's their little town now. I mean, there is a surrealness about that. There's a big sign now that says Mantua.
Talking of names - why William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet?
Things are marketed very intensely in the US. Because it was modern images and because it was Romeo and Juliet, of which there are many Romeo and Juliets - even Shakespeare stole the story from other sources - with the way their minds work, it would be, `Let's just flog it as a kind of funky-looking movie called Romeo and Juliet and not mention Shakespeare'. So by forcing them to put William Shakespeare in there, no matter what they did to it, there was no question that it was the play.
Not only is it the text, but the Zefirelli version, which everyone thinks is the Elizabethan show, actually has additional dialogue and does actually change the text. From, `Do with their death bury their parents' strife', not, `Doth with their death...' I'm not criticising that, because I think it's a gorgeous production of 1968. But we are textually more accurate. We have cut about a third - under a half, which is probably normal. Zeffirelli cut half the text.
Actors love Shakespeare because it's like giving them a sports car. They have a lot to say, and actors like to talk, God knows. It was a meticulous rehearsal process, but they dug it. There's no actor on that show that's not happy. Brian Dennehy had three lines. He's a terrific stage actor. I just asked him. I said, `Look, I really need someone who could really believe he's Leonardo's father and someone with real credibility and who has good craft'.
You bring Shakespeare to the people. Was that a surprise that it's done so well and seems to have introduced many Americans, at least, to Shakespeare?
Being number 1 was a surprise to everyone. Being number 1 in America is like saying, `I don't care what it is; I want it', to the industry. It killed Sleepers. That was a $70,000,000 film with Robert de Niro, Brad Pitt and Dustin Hoffman. In a town where, `What do you mean, Shakespeare's number 1? How come you didn't tell me about it?', it means a lot. But yes, I wanted to take it back to where it began, and that was for everybody. It was for everybody.
With such box office you'd almost be subject to a deity principle now, wouldn't you?
More the alchemy principle, I think. What we've done in our two sorties is that we've turned lead to gold. To understand means gold so, therefore, we must understand something about the audience that they don't. Frankly, no-one knows anything, and those that do what we do are only paid because they have a better instinct than others. They don't know. I don't really know. I know what I'd like to see out there, and we have the audacity and the guts and, I suppose, the sort of energy to sustain the fight to get it done.
So what has that left me with? Well, I was certainly offered higher cash deals, much more wealthy deals, by other studios, but with Fox, they embraced the notion that I wanted to work from Australia and that I work with a large team in an idiosyncratic way in which we work. The truth is it's not just about film. I don't think we're film-makers or directors or whatever. We tell stories. So what we have purchased or won is the ability to think something up and do it.
Post-script: a report in the Melbourne Herald- Sun for 1 January 1997 said that for the four days after Christmas, Romeo and Juliet topped the box-office with $A 2,277,014 while Daylight took $A 2,235,000. Baz Luhrmann is quoted: We feel very proud that an idea launched in Australia has been embraced so wholeheartedly and I know Shakespeare will be happy to hear that he outgrossed Sylvester Stallone.
Interview: 19th December 1996
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Saturday, 18 September 2021 18:57
Ray Lawrence
RAY LAWRENCE

You have said that Bliss was typical of the Australian culture at that time, 1985. It was seen by many people as a very significant film?
I think it surprised a lot of people.
How did you come to it? From what you had been doing prior to Bliss?
Peter Carey and I met in advertising. He was working in an advertising agency at the time and we did a number of commercials together. I read some of his short stories and we became friends. We both talked about doing a film and we actually wrote one called Life and Death in the South Side Pavilion. That was based on his short story with that name. It ended up being called Dancing on the Water. We tried to get back together but...
Then Peter brought out Bliss, which was a big success. I gave it to Tony Buckley who was a friend. He was going to some film festival and I just gave him the book to read as a present, to read on the plane, and he came back and said, "If you want to make a film, why don't we do this?" It happened very, very quickly. We made it. And it was at a time when the enthusiasm, the energy just went into making it. We never ever considered what we would do with it afterwards. It didn't even occur to me about having an audience or selling it. I had this sort naive notion that people would like it or not.
Then before it was finished - Tony being an old hand at this sort of thing - he suggested we go into the Cannes Film Festival. I was just happy to get it done. There is a rigmarole that you go through to apply, and they saw a very rough cut - almost four hours - and they suggested it go into the Director's Fortnight. And that was fine with me, but Tony said, "No, I think we should go for something else". I hadn't even thought of going into this. So he pushed for something else and they came back with it and I said, "No, I much prefer to be in the Director's Fortnight." Tony said, "No..." In time we got it into the main competition. So there I was - I think it was with Godard, Kurosawa, people like that.
Much was made of the reaction at Cannes at the time. Was it as bad as the newspapers reported?
Well, it was bad for me because I was on the end of it. Some critic in Australia wrote, "Bliss bombs at Cannes". I'll always remember that. I was there and I saw and it was just the opposite. But everybody I knew was either happy or sorry for it. But the shocking thing was that it was the second film for this to happen. The first film was 1959 where L'Avventura, which Antonioni did, emptied the cinema in the first 10 minutes, and I only half emptied the cinema in the first 10 minutes! Actually, we were sitting there with the dignitaries and people starting getting up. I just thought the place was on fire or something. Then I realised what was happening. I don't know what it was; it was just a very strange film. I actually tried to drag some people back in!
Then, the next day they had the big press conference and I figured, well, all I've done is made a film. But they had gotten so worked up about it that I felt a bit like a criminal. One section of the press was really hositle, the other section was sort of favourable - it always split people.
The AFI Awards turned it around in Australia, at least.
Yes, that was great. I mean, if I had in fact won an Oscar, it wouldn't be as good as getting the AFI, because I didn't ever expect anything. During the making of it, it was difficult because I hadn't made a film before and, in a lot of circumstances, I just said okay. A lot of the people I was working with had made a film before, and I gave it over to their expertise. But I found that things weren't quite working out as I was wanting them to. So I sort of backtracked and there was a bit of resentment. Thinking back, half the people seemed to be on my side and the other half... it was always a battle with the film. But I always remember how it was Colorfilm that developed it, and the projectionists would try and get their shifts so they could watch the next day's rushes of the film. I always thought that was a pretty good sign.
It's a very complex film, adapting the novel, visualising ideas, visualising the satire and drawing on a whole range of cinematic styles.
Yes, people say it's complicated, but there's two sections. The section that most people remember, which is the visual side of it, and this visual side was always inspired by the words. The famous sardine scene or the cockroach scene: in the novel and I think also in the film, Harry says to Bettina - she's just been having an affair with Joel and she visits him in hospital - and he says, "Phew, you smell," and she's immediately guilty. So, really, the sardines are nothing more than a visual metaphor for it, and that's in the book. The sardines aren't, but the smell of sardines is. So all I did was to literally translate it. Then the same thing with the cockroach. They're visually more shocking than they are literally.
What of the famous near-death scene?
Well, again that's in the book, but I remember before we started shooting, I think even before I finished the screenplay, I did a little scribble. I was watching a crane one day and I figured that I could do it from that. In fact it's not in the film because it just took up too much time, but we actually went from a close-up of his cigarette burning his skin right up to heaven, so it worked.
It worked at the end as well, his real death.
That was just a big crane, an arm. But that was more of an emotional ending and that's why I say the film is in two sections. There's a very surrealistic opening half and, then, once Harry goes to the bush, everything becomes normal. Just in terms of my progress, I'm more interested in the last half of the movie now, but then I was really into the other half - and I think a lot of people still think that I'm very visual or something. In fact, short of an idea, the most other exciting thing about making a film is the performances. I've always been swept away by a good performance.
Yes, the story about Titch goes for almost 5 minutes, just a close-up of Barry Otto telling the story.
It's a combination of great performance and a great piece of writing. So for a director, if you've got those two things, all you've really got to do is make sure you don't fuck it up by getting tricky about it.
The Australian themes? In the beginning Harry seems a decent bloke and an ordinary type, so that the invitation for the average Australian
audience is to identify with him.
That's why I think it was a bit of a shock for Australians at that point seeing themselves in the cinema. They were either trying to remake American films or do period pieces. And this thing came along and it was a contemporary piece which was an unusual way of looking at things. But the thing that's always interested me is the idea of holding up a mirror to an audience so they recognise themselves.
I think what happens is that the aspirational side of cinema takes over, our culture, advertising, the pressures that television puts on people - you're not blonde enough, you're not fit enough, you're not rich enough. When this creeps into the cinema, what happens is your bum hasn't left the seat when the lights go up and you've forgotten what you've just seen. But if you're watching something that you recognise, you become a lot more involved in it. It's not very commercial. In a sense it's a very commercial idea, but in trying to raise money for films, you go into those meetings and you talk about people recognising themselves, and you see a wall come up.
I'm a great fan of Ken Loach and always have been, so even though this seemingly is a million miles away from his films, it really isn't; I'm working on something else and it will be different but yet the same, because the truth is all I'm really interested in, trying to get the truth of an idea.
Going back to your mirror image, how distorted, in an ironic black sense, did you want it to be for Bliss? How much is realism and how much is satire?
I don't ever see it as a distortion. One of the best stories is the story of a family. All the great novels, they're all about families. So, when Harry's sick, lying there, and you have an image of his family standing at the end of the bed talking about him as if he can't hear, I mean, there's nothing distorted about that. In fact, a lot of people talk about the blacknesses in our lives, but when we see it from another point of view, we recognise it as being in our lives. But there's a distance because it's portrayed as somebody else's life. It becomes funny. If this was actually in our life, it would be dramatic and too close to home. And that's the wonderful thing about cinema - it just gives you a little bit of distance to be able to recognise yourself. I guess they call that satire, but I just see it as the truth.
What about the minor characters played by Paul Chubb or Kerry Walker?
I think that's one of the great things about Peter's writing. It does give those truths, and those characters, they're there. And if you look around, I'm sure you'll find one in your life. You might even be related to one of them.
So, in a sense, we could say that Harry Joy is an Australian Everyman.
If you look at what's happening in his life and at that certain point in their life when any thinking person wonders what it's all about and whether there's any point. The wonderful thing about the story is the idea of dying and coming back to life and find that you are living in Hell.
The religious themes are present, sometimes quite explicitly about God, heaven and hell. In the discussion with the Reverend Des,
Harry asks, "Do you believe that God wants to torment us?" There is also a deal of Christian iconography. To that extent Bliss seems to be very religious.
Well, it's religious only in the sense that from a film-maker's point of view, the visual side of religion is always fun. No matter what religion it is, there's always so much ceremony. And every religion always has particular icons which all carry the weight of belief, and that's always interesting. The notion of God is more interesting when you ask people to question it, as opposed to accepting it. I think that's a problem that the church has had for a long time. They're continually asking people to accept something when the rest of the world is questioning it. In the last hundred years things have changed so quickly, and the church has hung on to a superior notion and expected people not to question, as opposed to moving with the times. In a very small way that's really what the conversation of Harry and Des is about. It's just somebody who thinks he's living in Hell. Well, if there is a Hell, there has to be a Heaven, so then does God really want to torture us? They're all good questions.
The Reverend Des seems to be moving towards a liberal trending that doesn't want to have Hell and prefers to talk about the cricket.
No, it's more of a human representation. Again getting back to the truth, all those reverends out there have a human part of their life and their feelings are continually coming into conflict with their beliefs, and they push them aside and work on their faith.
I always liken it to the different views generations have, say towards the medical profession. My mother will go to a doctor and no matter what the doctor says, she will feel intimidated by his presence. The same with a bank manager. Now, that's all changed. You stop somebody in the street and ask them about their bank and you will be lucky to get out of the conversation under an hour, because nobody likes banks, and for good reason: the banks have still got that superior attitude. So all those parts of society are still locked into those attitudes. They still want respect, but people are questioning, because as they say, there's so much more freedom. I don't know whether it started in the '60s. Maybe it did.
It would seem to be very much so. Speaking of icons and that image of church, Manning Clark was an Australian icon and you have
him acting as a minister quoting the Gospel passage about how hard it is for the rich to enter heaven, easier to pass through the eye of a needle.
Yes, but the funny thing about that was that Peter and I went to a function and Manning was there, and I didn't know who he was. He gave a speech and I said, "Gee, he's an interesting-looking guy. He'd be good in the film." Peter knew him, so we met and I said, "Would you be interested in playing a small part?" And he said yes - he was a very charming man. Just before we were filming - we only did a couple of takes - he said, "I have an agreement with you - don't you tell me how to give a speech and I won't tell you how to direct," and I said, "That's fine." He was great and it was nice to have that little bit of history in the film.
In Harry's discussions with Alex about being good - the nature of sin and guilt and being good - Bliss moved to an ethical level. It is seen in
Harry's struggles about advertising and helping Bettina or not. But, finally, with Harry's move to the bush and nature, there was almost a
kind of pantheistic faith at the end.
I don't know whether you've noticed it, but the word "seachange" has come into popular use lately. I think it's a bit like that. It happens to everybody, this set notion of being right in the middle of it all, which is the city, and then wanting to cleanse yourself, get out of it and go to the bush. I don't think it's particularly Australian, but it's easier to do here because we've got so much space. I work quite a bit in Europe and it is a beautiful place - we were shooting in the French countryside somewhere and it was so beautiful, French and summer. But I just felt that every bit of it had been walked on. There was no wilderness.
Next week I'm going up to Arnhem Land. I've been there before and I'm going up to look at some locations. But you get up there and you really do feel like a guest. So it's the idea of being in the city, being poisoned by it. At that particular point in a person's life, the city can symbolise all the bad things, so you really do want a cleansing atmosphere. I think it's easier to get it - or fool yourself that you're getting it - in this country more than any other!
Ultimately he surrendered and was one with the bush.
Yes, he just became part of nature. I really love the ending of the film, the last couple of scenes where his daughter says, "There's one more story to tell". And more so now because there's been 12 or 13 years now since the film was made, and I've changed too, so I'm more involved with the last part of the film now. In my future work, that's really the area that I want to work in. I like the other stuff but it's a bit flashy and it's not as lasting.
The audiences coming up will still find it very striking and younger audiences will find it stimulating.
I think that in the future films like Bliss will probably be re-released. It was done at a period that's gone. It wouldn't get made now. There's no way you could raise money for that. It's a hard one to sell.
Since then you've been working on commercials.
Yes, but I've been working with Robert Drewe on a number of things and with Jan Chapman. But with most of the things, they've just been difficult to talk people into. I don't know why that is. They all seem to be similar. At one point I tried for four years to get Tracks, the Robyn Davidson story, going. I came close, and it was with American money, ironically, but in the end they said, "Oh, look, I really don't know. I can't imagine who wants to see the story of a young woman finding herself in the desert." And I said, "Well, at least half the population." You come up against those commercial barriers that are difficult, and so with a film like Bliss, I look at it and wonder whether somebody could raise the money on it now.
The problem is that you go into those meetings and you really are creating such an expectation for a film, because they're so expensive to make, that you're actually lying to liars just to get the money. So the better you tell lies, the better chance you've got of getting money. But when you start talking about people recognising themselves, it's not that sort of meeting. That's an intellectual thing, and after the event it's a nice thing to discuss. Even in advertising, they do it. I try to get people to recognise themselves and that doesn't go over too well in some meetings. But after the event they appreciate it!
Interview: 30th October 1998

You have said that Bliss was typical of the Australian culture at that time, 1985. It was seen by many people as a very significant film?
I think it surprised a lot of people.
How did you come to it? From what you had been doing prior to Bliss?
Peter Carey and I met in advertising. He was working in an advertising agency at the time and we did a number of commercials together. I read some of his short stories and we became friends. We both talked about doing a film and we actually wrote one called Life and Death in the South Side Pavilion. That was based on his short story with that name. It ended up being called Dancing on the Water. We tried to get back together but...
Then Peter brought out Bliss, which was a big success. I gave it to Tony Buckley who was a friend. He was going to some film festival and I just gave him the book to read as a present, to read on the plane, and he came back and said, "If you want to make a film, why don't we do this?" It happened very, very quickly. We made it. And it was at a time when the enthusiasm, the energy just went into making it. We never ever considered what we would do with it afterwards. It didn't even occur to me about having an audience or selling it. I had this sort naive notion that people would like it or not.
Then before it was finished - Tony being an old hand at this sort of thing - he suggested we go into the Cannes Film Festival. I was just happy to get it done. There is a rigmarole that you go through to apply, and they saw a very rough cut - almost four hours - and they suggested it go into the Director's Fortnight. And that was fine with me, but Tony said, "No, I think we should go for something else". I hadn't even thought of going into this. So he pushed for something else and they came back with it and I said, "No, I much prefer to be in the Director's Fortnight." Tony said, "No..." In time we got it into the main competition. So there I was - I think it was with Godard, Kurosawa, people like that.
Much was made of the reaction at Cannes at the time. Was it as bad as the newspapers reported?
Well, it was bad for me because I was on the end of it. Some critic in Australia wrote, "Bliss bombs at Cannes". I'll always remember that. I was there and I saw and it was just the opposite. But everybody I knew was either happy or sorry for it. But the shocking thing was that it was the second film for this to happen. The first film was 1959 where L'Avventura, which Antonioni did, emptied the cinema in the first 10 minutes, and I only half emptied the cinema in the first 10 minutes! Actually, we were sitting there with the dignitaries and people starting getting up. I just thought the place was on fire or something. Then I realised what was happening. I don't know what it was; it was just a very strange film. I actually tried to drag some people back in!
Then, the next day they had the big press conference and I figured, well, all I've done is made a film. But they had gotten so worked up about it that I felt a bit like a criminal. One section of the press was really hositle, the other section was sort of favourable - it always split people.
The AFI Awards turned it around in Australia, at least.
Yes, that was great. I mean, if I had in fact won an Oscar, it wouldn't be as good as getting the AFI, because I didn't ever expect anything. During the making of it, it was difficult because I hadn't made a film before and, in a lot of circumstances, I just said okay. A lot of the people I was working with had made a film before, and I gave it over to their expertise. But I found that things weren't quite working out as I was wanting them to. So I sort of backtracked and there was a bit of resentment. Thinking back, half the people seemed to be on my side and the other half... it was always a battle with the film. But I always remember how it was Colorfilm that developed it, and the projectionists would try and get their shifts so they could watch the next day's rushes of the film. I always thought that was a pretty good sign.
It's a very complex film, adapting the novel, visualising ideas, visualising the satire and drawing on a whole range of cinematic styles.
Yes, people say it's complicated, but there's two sections. The section that most people remember, which is the visual side of it, and this visual side was always inspired by the words. The famous sardine scene or the cockroach scene: in the novel and I think also in the film, Harry says to Bettina - she's just been having an affair with Joel and she visits him in hospital - and he says, "Phew, you smell," and she's immediately guilty. So, really, the sardines are nothing more than a visual metaphor for it, and that's in the book. The sardines aren't, but the smell of sardines is. So all I did was to literally translate it. Then the same thing with the cockroach. They're visually more shocking than they are literally.
What of the famous near-death scene?
Well, again that's in the book, but I remember before we started shooting, I think even before I finished the screenplay, I did a little scribble. I was watching a crane one day and I figured that I could do it from that. In fact it's not in the film because it just took up too much time, but we actually went from a close-up of his cigarette burning his skin right up to heaven, so it worked.
It worked at the end as well, his real death.
That was just a big crane, an arm. But that was more of an emotional ending and that's why I say the film is in two sections. There's a very surrealistic opening half and, then, once Harry goes to the bush, everything becomes normal. Just in terms of my progress, I'm more interested in the last half of the movie now, but then I was really into the other half - and I think a lot of people still think that I'm very visual or something. In fact, short of an idea, the most other exciting thing about making a film is the performances. I've always been swept away by a good performance.
Yes, the story about Titch goes for almost 5 minutes, just a close-up of Barry Otto telling the story.
It's a combination of great performance and a great piece of writing. So for a director, if you've got those two things, all you've really got to do is make sure you don't fuck it up by getting tricky about it.
The Australian themes? In the beginning Harry seems a decent bloke and an ordinary type, so that the invitation for the average Australian
audience is to identify with him.
That's why I think it was a bit of a shock for Australians at that point seeing themselves in the cinema. They were either trying to remake American films or do period pieces. And this thing came along and it was a contemporary piece which was an unusual way of looking at things. But the thing that's always interested me is the idea of holding up a mirror to an audience so they recognise themselves.
I think what happens is that the aspirational side of cinema takes over, our culture, advertising, the pressures that television puts on people - you're not blonde enough, you're not fit enough, you're not rich enough. When this creeps into the cinema, what happens is your bum hasn't left the seat when the lights go up and you've forgotten what you've just seen. But if you're watching something that you recognise, you become a lot more involved in it. It's not very commercial. In a sense it's a very commercial idea, but in trying to raise money for films, you go into those meetings and you talk about people recognising themselves, and you see a wall come up.
I'm a great fan of Ken Loach and always have been, so even though this seemingly is a million miles away from his films, it really isn't; I'm working on something else and it will be different but yet the same, because the truth is all I'm really interested in, trying to get the truth of an idea.
Going back to your mirror image, how distorted, in an ironic black sense, did you want it to be for Bliss? How much is realism and how much is satire?
I don't ever see it as a distortion. One of the best stories is the story of a family. All the great novels, they're all about families. So, when Harry's sick, lying there, and you have an image of his family standing at the end of the bed talking about him as if he can't hear, I mean, there's nothing distorted about that. In fact, a lot of people talk about the blacknesses in our lives, but when we see it from another point of view, we recognise it as being in our lives. But there's a distance because it's portrayed as somebody else's life. It becomes funny. If this was actually in our life, it would be dramatic and too close to home. And that's the wonderful thing about cinema - it just gives you a little bit of distance to be able to recognise yourself. I guess they call that satire, but I just see it as the truth.
What about the minor characters played by Paul Chubb or Kerry Walker?
I think that's one of the great things about Peter's writing. It does give those truths, and those characters, they're there. And if you look around, I'm sure you'll find one in your life. You might even be related to one of them.
So, in a sense, we could say that Harry Joy is an Australian Everyman.
If you look at what's happening in his life and at that certain point in their life when any thinking person wonders what it's all about and whether there's any point. The wonderful thing about the story is the idea of dying and coming back to life and find that you are living in Hell.
The religious themes are present, sometimes quite explicitly about God, heaven and hell. In the discussion with the Reverend Des,
Harry asks, "Do you believe that God wants to torment us?" There is also a deal of Christian iconography. To that extent Bliss seems to be very religious.
Well, it's religious only in the sense that from a film-maker's point of view, the visual side of religion is always fun. No matter what religion it is, there's always so much ceremony. And every religion always has particular icons which all carry the weight of belief, and that's always interesting. The notion of God is more interesting when you ask people to question it, as opposed to accepting it. I think that's a problem that the church has had for a long time. They're continually asking people to accept something when the rest of the world is questioning it. In the last hundred years things have changed so quickly, and the church has hung on to a superior notion and expected people not to question, as opposed to moving with the times. In a very small way that's really what the conversation of Harry and Des is about. It's just somebody who thinks he's living in Hell. Well, if there is a Hell, there has to be a Heaven, so then does God really want to torture us? They're all good questions.
The Reverend Des seems to be moving towards a liberal trending that doesn't want to have Hell and prefers to talk about the cricket.
No, it's more of a human representation. Again getting back to the truth, all those reverends out there have a human part of their life and their feelings are continually coming into conflict with their beliefs, and they push them aside and work on their faith.
I always liken it to the different views generations have, say towards the medical profession. My mother will go to a doctor and no matter what the doctor says, she will feel intimidated by his presence. The same with a bank manager. Now, that's all changed. You stop somebody in the street and ask them about their bank and you will be lucky to get out of the conversation under an hour, because nobody likes banks, and for good reason: the banks have still got that superior attitude. So all those parts of society are still locked into those attitudes. They still want respect, but people are questioning, because as they say, there's so much more freedom. I don't know whether it started in the '60s. Maybe it did.
It would seem to be very much so. Speaking of icons and that image of church, Manning Clark was an Australian icon and you have
him acting as a minister quoting the Gospel passage about how hard it is for the rich to enter heaven, easier to pass through the eye of a needle.
Yes, but the funny thing about that was that Peter and I went to a function and Manning was there, and I didn't know who he was. He gave a speech and I said, "Gee, he's an interesting-looking guy. He'd be good in the film." Peter knew him, so we met and I said, "Would you be interested in playing a small part?" And he said yes - he was a very charming man. Just before we were filming - we only did a couple of takes - he said, "I have an agreement with you - don't you tell me how to give a speech and I won't tell you how to direct," and I said, "That's fine." He was great and it was nice to have that little bit of history in the film.
In Harry's discussions with Alex about being good - the nature of sin and guilt and being good - Bliss moved to an ethical level. It is seen in
Harry's struggles about advertising and helping Bettina or not. But, finally, with Harry's move to the bush and nature, there was almost a
kind of pantheistic faith at the end.
I don't know whether you've noticed it, but the word "seachange" has come into popular use lately. I think it's a bit like that. It happens to everybody, this set notion of being right in the middle of it all, which is the city, and then wanting to cleanse yourself, get out of it and go to the bush. I don't think it's particularly Australian, but it's easier to do here because we've got so much space. I work quite a bit in Europe and it is a beautiful place - we were shooting in the French countryside somewhere and it was so beautiful, French and summer. But I just felt that every bit of it had been walked on. There was no wilderness.
Next week I'm going up to Arnhem Land. I've been there before and I'm going up to look at some locations. But you get up there and you really do feel like a guest. So it's the idea of being in the city, being poisoned by it. At that particular point in a person's life, the city can symbolise all the bad things, so you really do want a cleansing atmosphere. I think it's easier to get it - or fool yourself that you're getting it - in this country more than any other!
Ultimately he surrendered and was one with the bush.
Yes, he just became part of nature. I really love the ending of the film, the last couple of scenes where his daughter says, "There's one more story to tell". And more so now because there's been 12 or 13 years now since the film was made, and I've changed too, so I'm more involved with the last part of the film now. In my future work, that's really the area that I want to work in. I like the other stuff but it's a bit flashy and it's not as lasting.
The audiences coming up will still find it very striking and younger audiences will find it stimulating.
I think that in the future films like Bliss will probably be re-released. It was done at a period that's gone. It wouldn't get made now. There's no way you could raise money for that. It's a hard one to sell.
Since then you've been working on commercials.
Yes, but I've been working with Robert Drewe on a number of things and with Jan Chapman. But with most of the things, they've just been difficult to talk people into. I don't know why that is. They all seem to be similar. At one point I tried for four years to get Tracks, the Robyn Davidson story, going. I came close, and it was with American money, ironically, but in the end they said, "Oh, look, I really don't know. I can't imagine who wants to see the story of a young woman finding herself in the desert." And I said, "Well, at least half the population." You come up against those commercial barriers that are difficult, and so with a film like Bliss, I look at it and wonder whether somebody could raise the money on it now.
The problem is that you go into those meetings and you really are creating such an expectation for a film, because they're so expensive to make, that you're actually lying to liars just to get the money. So the better you tell lies, the better chance you've got of getting money. But when you start talking about people recognising themselves, it's not that sort of meeting. That's an intellectual thing, and after the event it's a nice thing to discuss. Even in advertising, they do it. I try to get people to recognise themselves and that doesn't go over too well in some meetings. But after the event they appreciate it!
Interview: 30th October 1998
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Saturday, 18 September 2021 18:57
Bill Bennett
BILL BENNETT

You have said that you always have a serious intention in taking on any film project.
I guess I look on film-making not as being a job, but as having a specific role in society; that if you get to the very privileged position of being able to make a film, then along with it come certain responsibilities.
For me, mere entertainment is not enough to warrant making a film, because the whole process is so difficult, so time-consuming and requiring such a sacrifice - not only from me, but from the people around me - that there has to be something deeper if you're prepared to devote years of your life, especially if you're writing and directing. It's probably a minimum of three years of your life.
Would you have spent three years on your early films, like A Street to Die and Backlash?
A Street to Die was probably about two and a half years, from picking up the story through to financing. Probably longer if you take into account the marketing of the film. Backlash took a similar period. Spider and Rose was four years from writing the first treatment through to the completion of the film. It seems that as I progress, my development period gets longer.
Do you prefer to do the writing, the producing and the directing as you did in your earlier films?
I did, yes. I guess as my ambitions get higher - and by that I mean as my need to work on larger budgets gets greater, because you need money to realise the things that you want to achieve - producing becomes much more difficult. Initially I was going to produce Spider and Rose, but I relinquished that.
To be a good producer is a full-time job in itself and sometimes - often in fact - the roles of producer and director are contradictory. Really, for a producer to be doing his or her job well, that person needs to be in conflict at times with the director, and similarly for the director with the producer. The best producer-director collaborations are where there is a point of harmony between the two conflicting needs of those roles.
At the moment I'm reading a book about the making of Lawrence of Arabia, Sam Spiegel and David Lean, some of the rows that they used to have. But the result was, I think, a truly magnificent film.
What films did you make before A Street to Die?
As an independent film-maker, I had done two dramatised documentaries. One was called Cattle King, about Sir Sidney Kidman, and the other was called Shipwrecked, which was about a lone sailor coming across the Tasman in a race. Shipwrecked won the Sydney Film Festival award for best documentary. In many ways it was consistent with the themes of all my subsequent work.
It did, in fact, have quite a strong religious theme because this fellow who got shipwrecked - his name was Bill Belcher, a New Zealander, in his seventies - was stranded on a reef. His wife firmly believed that he was alive. When he'd been missing for 30 days, she was walking past a church, went in, knelt down and prayed, and - at this point everybody had given him up for dead - she suddenly knew that he would be all right. She walked home and the phone was ringing. She answered it and he had been picked up. But the story was really about a commitment between these two, the fact that she never gave up, she never lost faith.
A Street to Die was a very impressive first movie.
There have only been two films that I've made where I've cried during the making of the film. That was one and Malpractice was the other. Both I found to be very, very emotional experiences.
What led you to the story of A Street to Die?
I had seen it in a newspaper, the `Weekend Australian', a story with an aerial photograph of the street. It had all the Vietnam veterans on one side, I think, with the Korean veterans on the other. On the Vietnam side of the street in the photograph they had put all these little bubbles - with everything that was going wrong. The story was about a man called Simpson and his claims that Agent Orange was causing his problems.
I was astonished by this story and was expecting a series of follow-ups, but I looked through all the papers and there were no follow-ups at all. I thought, `This is crazy. This is a great story and it should be out there'. So I contacted the people and got a researcher to spend a few weeks in the street, to check it out, really, before I committed to it.
How much did you fictionalise the story? Did you stay with the facts?
It was hardly fictional at all. I actually worked very closely with the widow, writing a script. Once the script was written, I gave her a copy and she went through it and sanctioned it. She gave her stamp of approval before we went into production, so it was pretty accurate.
There was a scene with the doctor to whom the Chris Haywood character had been going and who had been consistently misdiagnosing his condition. He went to get a second opinion and was diagnosed as having lymphoma. This female doctor, rather than tell this man the news face-to-face, went into another room and phoned from there. I filmed that virtually word-for-word. It's exactly what happened. When it screened to audiences, people laughed. They couldn't believe it.
In making the documentaries and films like A Street to Die and Backlash, Malpractice and Mortgage, how did you see yourself as making
a serious contribution to Australian film-making?
I don't know that I really saw myself as anything other than I just having a very strong desire to tell these stories. Before I did A Street to Die, people said, `You can't write, produce and direct'. But I had written and produced and directed the two dramatised documentaries, so I thought, well, why can't I? And so I did.
A funny thing happened: A Street to Die was invited to all these film festivals overseas and I remember it was invited to the London Film Festival. I was a bit anxious about how it was going to be received and I didn't want to sit in the audience. But they asked me to introduce the film, which I did, and then I stayed outside. But then, part-way through, I went into the projection room. I don't know why I went into the projection room, maybe just to make sure that everything was going okay. Whenever the film's playing, I always do that, I always check with the projectionist first. I remember standing beside the projector and looking out through the little porthole to see the film on the screen, and I had this most curious sensation - as though I had not made the film. I was looking at it as though I was seeing it for the first time.
It started me thinking about what it is that a true film-maker does, the fact that really you are just a conduit. I think the best film-makers are merely a conduit for these stories and that the more you try to clog the channels with things like ego or ambition, or greed or whatever, the more the film becomes corrupted.
How was A Street to Die received in Australia?
It got a limited release. It seems that with a lot of my work, it always seems to be received better after the fact than during its time. That particular year it was nominated for the major AFI awards and I think it got a good response critically.
And Chris Haywood won the best actor award. Did you bring a particular perception of the Vietnam war to the film and try to communicate
some stance on war via the film?
I tried not to, actually, because I didn't see that as being what the film was about. I really saw it as being about the blindness of authorities to accept culpability. To that extent, I suppose, it is an anti-war film, but it was more to do with anti-bureaucracy and a very, very strong sense of injustice, that ultimately what was at work here was the possibility that, if a precedent was established, then huge amounts of money would have to be paid out.
The anti-bureaucracy theme is a link with Backlash.
It's interesting because, as a writer-director, when I start to think about a film, I don't think about it in terms of plot, I think about it in terms of theme. Then I often contrive a plot to explore a theme. In Backlash the theme that I really wanted to explore was, in broad terms, racism, but, specifically, people who are different. That was really what I wanted to explore.
I was also interested in the Aboriginal spirituality, which I tried to get across in the Brian Syron character and the sense of the spiritual aspect of the man.
The transition from city to land was important. How much of Backlash was improvised or did you write a screenplay?
It was totally improvised. I wrote it in the sense that I wrote, as with Malpractice, a scene by scene breakdown and, within that, I knew what dialogue needed to be spoken. But the actual words themselves were improvised. I went through quite a rigorous rehearsal process with the actors prior to shooting. We shot the picture in 18 days. It was very highly structured. I also wanted to shoot as closely as possible the chronology of the film.
The budget was low - $200,000 (and even in 1986 that was very little money) - but again I just had a very strong desire to tell a story. I gave no thought about how it was going to be received, because I figured that it was made on such a low budget that, if it bombed, if nobody ever saw it, then it wouldn't really matter. At least I'd be able to get some money from somewhere to pay the investors back. But as it turned out, the film was probably, per dollar spent, the most successful film I've done.
Brian Syron contributed an understanding of the deepening of the spirituality and the land. David Argue is such an eccentric screen presence so that, with his ability to improvise, the bigotry and the lack of understanding were very strong.
Yes, that really was what the film was about. And again, it was fuelled within myself by a very strong sense of injustice.
Jilted has been screened on television and Dear Cardholder is available on video.
Dear Cardholder was about how credit can really get you into trouble. Jilted explored the notion that people who have had a bad time in relationships sometimes have a distrust of going into other relationships. I look back on those two films and see that they were good attempts, but I think I went into them too quickly and I don't think the ideas were realised as well as they could have been. That's why, after those two, I didn't make another film for quite a long time.
Dear Cardholder was trying to be satirical and comic.
I was playing with that a little. I guess one of the reasons why I moved out of documentaries was because I do think that documentaries preach to the converted. In other words, if you're interested in exploring social themes for a wide audience and hoping to introduce new ideas to an audience that wouldn't necessarily accept them, then I do think that drama is the best way to go. Documentaries can be artfully done and can be very provocative, very profound and very powerful. But the fact is that people who watch documentaries normally go to them with a point of view consistent with that of the film-maker. You're not reaching people who perhaps haven't thought about these issues or are undecided. That's really the reason that I moved into drama, because I figured that I would be able to explore such themes but put them out to a larger audience. And I guess as part of that, I started dabbling in comedy, with Dear Cardholder in particular, which I don't think was very successful.
It was a touch black, with disaster coming at the end, whereas Jilted was more straightforward in terms of exploring relationships.
Yes, it was. Again I think that script could have done with another 12 months' work. After those two films I decided I'd go back and reskill myself and I took myself out of the market for a while and started to concentrate more on developing the skills that I thought I needed to tell stories.
Malpractice and Mortgage come next. Malpractice was certainly very striking. And audiences could empathise with the couple in Mortgage,
their frustration and the smooth sales talk.
I look back on both Mortgage and Malpractice with an honest affection. They were important films for me because I think they brought me back to my roots, to that sort of social realist form that I really love, and they also took me back to improvisation. I'd actually left Backlash vowing that I'd never do another improvised film because I found it very difficult. But I'm very proud of both films. That's not to say that I don't look at them now and know how I could improve them enormously, but Malpractice, in particular, was a very emotional experience for me and for everybody involved.
Film Australia produced them?
Yes, they financed them totally.
And they recur on television?
Yes, they do. Interestingly, Mortgage I've since been told has become something of a cult film in Canada. For some reason or other it just keeps on playing there and they love it. I don't know why.
In the late 80s you made other documentaries, The Chelmsford Scream and You Have No Secrets.
Both of those I did as a hired gun. The first was fronted by Ray Martin and I directed the dramatic story, which was all about Chelmsford hospital. The other was about information technology, about the use of computers and how they can affect us. It was a two hour special. I took it on because it enabled me to learn so much more about that side of a world that I knew nothing about.
You produced two documentaries written and directed by Lewis Fitz Gerald. There was Gadfly, about Francis James, The Last Man Hanged,
about Ronald Ryan.
I'd worked with Lewis on a documentary called The Banjo and the Bard, about the relationship between Henry Lawson and Banjo Paterson, and Lewis had always wanted to direct. My attitude to Lewis had been, `Nobody's going to give it to you on a platter. If you want to do something, then come up with an idea. If it's a good idea, then I'll help you'. And he came up with The Last Man Hanged which, perversely, was very, very close to my sensibility. Apart from the fact that I wanted to help Lewis get his first runs on the board as a director, the story was consistent with things that I'd done to that point. I certainly had a strong hand in the development of the project.
It is a particularly Catholic film.
Lewis Fitz Gerald is not a Catholic, but that's certainly a theme that came through very strongly. Interestingly, I've only seen one other film that I think has had a similar tone and theme and that's Eternity, which I think is a sensational film.
Ronald Ryan's death and the scenes with the chaplain, Fr Brosnan are striking. They are in the vein of Dead Man Walking. The whole feel is right.
Yes, you can almost smell it. I think Lewis did a wonderful job and it's certainly a film that I was very proud to have my name on.
Your worked for four years on Spider and Rose. You have spoken about comedy with Dear Cardholder. Did you see Spider and Rose
as comic or comic-serious?
No, I never really did. I always thought of it as being a drama that would have some funny bits in it. Right at the outset, in fact, in my discussions with the producers, I told everybody that this was not a comedy. I don't know how it's perceived now, as to whether or not it's perceived as a comedy. But even now I don't see the film as a comedy. I regard it as quite a serious treatise on the way we treat the aged.
This is the case when the focus is on Ruth Cracknell's character and on Max Cullen's. But you wrote Spider's role strongly as well, a kind of
flip style. Publicists and reviewers gave the impression of comedy. But it's certainly more serious when the audience is focussing on Ruth Cracknell's, Rose.
Yes, that's what the film was about. Spider had to be a young man who undergoes a journey, and there had to be conflict between the two of them. I don't know if I have a natural predilection to write characters like that but I know that, in fact, there's a lot of cruelty within Spider in those early scenes. A lot of the humour comes because he is so cruel.
Ruth Cracknell is a strong screen presence.
I kept a pretty tight rein on Ruth. I had a very clear picture of how that character had to be at any given moment. That's not to say that Ruth is not a wonderful actress. The purpose of the Max Cullen character was to show this woman that things were possible, that you can suffer tragedy but you don't need to succumb to it. The irony with his character, of course, is that when the crunch comes, he doesn't have the courage to go with her. It's a feminist film, if you like, in the sense that the men ultimately let this woman down and she has to act on her own.
Which means that the justice background seems very important when you look back on all your films, a strong sense of justice and
a strong humanity. Does the word `humanity' do justice to your films?
Yes, I think that humanity is critical to me, absolutely critical. It's fundamental. I can't go to a film unless there is a basic humanity and I get very tired of seeing films that don't treat people with intelligence or humanity or with respect. Justice, I guess, comes from my early days as a journalist when I saw so many things that seemed to me unfair. What probably rankles with me more than anything is an intransigent bureaucratic system that follows rules mindlessly and doesn't give any cognisance to the human factor. That, probably more than anything, is what gets me going.
Like the hospital scenes at the beginning of Spider and Rose?
Yes, very much so. Hospitals are a particular case in point. That's why Malpractice was made. When I was working as a television journalist for Mike Willesee, I was involved in a very bad car accident and I broke my back. I was in hospital for three months in the spinal unit at Royal North Shore. Probably my antipathy to the hospital system stems from that period. Mind you, I do think there are some extraordinary doctors working in the hospital system, in the public hospital system, but there is also a structure in place that is often mindless and intransigent.
Two If By Sea. What interested you in that project?
From Backlash on, I've been consistently approached by Hollywood. I don't think that's anything out of the ordinary because I think any Australian director who gets even a semblance of profile is approached at some point. I read a lot of scripts and I had rejected all of them. I've rejected some great scripts, some films that have made huge amounts of money.
But this one really appealed to me because it was ultimately about the core relationship between Sandra Bullock and the Dennis Leary character and about this man's dinosaur approach to relationships, the fact that he regarded his role as a male as providing an income - and that's basically where it ended. Because he did provide an income that allowed him then to virtually ignore his partner.
Recently I've noticed a lot of relationships breaking down - and it's the women in fact that are instigating separation - because they're just fed up with the fact that men aren't changing. Women have changed over the last 20 years, they've changed enormously, but men aren't keeping up. That's really what I wanted to explore in this: the fact that men have to lift their game if they want to keep any sort of relationship that's going to mean something to them. That is really the heart of the movie.
The title sounds solemn. But the basic plot of the robberies has the light touch. And Denis Leary has an odd screen presence.
Yes. Denis is a prickly character on and off camera. He himself is an enormously intelligent and a wonderfully contradictory character. He is, in fact, a very kind man. He's a very strong family man. In many ways he's the antithesis of his screen persona. But the characters he wrote are the people that he grew up with. He came from that part of Boston, that Irish part of Boston, and he knows those people. I think that when I got the script Denis didn't really know what he wanted to say. I worked for a long time with him and with the other writer to structure the script to explore the themes that I was really interested in.
The reality is that when you do a Hollywood movie on a budget of $20 million, as that was, and with a big star like Sandra Bullock, the film has to operate on an entertainment level. There were a couple of key scenes in the film - there's one at a dinner party where the Denis Leary talks about how, `We're not going to change. You're a cashier, I'm a thief. Get used to it. We're not like these people around here with these big houses and these fancy cars'. That, to me, was the essence of the film. It was this man saying, `Look, I can't change'.
But I do believe that as a society we can't really move into the next millenium unless we do change and unless there is a mutual sense of respect between the sexes.
I think as far as Sandra is concerned, the response in America might have had something to do, as well, with the question, `what's Sandra doing in a film with Denis Leary where he's swearing at her?', and things like that.
None of the critics have actually discussed what the film is about, and that's what annoys me. No-one has ever mentioned what I have attempted to do, other than Anna Maria Dell' Orsa in the Sydney Morning Herald. The Melbourne critics just crucified me.
So I won't be doing another comedy in Hollywood in a hurry. I want to go back now and do another social realist piece.
Interview: 11th April 1996

You have said that you always have a serious intention in taking on any film project.
I guess I look on film-making not as being a job, but as having a specific role in society; that if you get to the very privileged position of being able to make a film, then along with it come certain responsibilities.
For me, mere entertainment is not enough to warrant making a film, because the whole process is so difficult, so time-consuming and requiring such a sacrifice - not only from me, but from the people around me - that there has to be something deeper if you're prepared to devote years of your life, especially if you're writing and directing. It's probably a minimum of three years of your life.
Would you have spent three years on your early films, like A Street to Die and Backlash?
A Street to Die was probably about two and a half years, from picking up the story through to financing. Probably longer if you take into account the marketing of the film. Backlash took a similar period. Spider and Rose was four years from writing the first treatment through to the completion of the film. It seems that as I progress, my development period gets longer.
Do you prefer to do the writing, the producing and the directing as you did in your earlier films?
I did, yes. I guess as my ambitions get higher - and by that I mean as my need to work on larger budgets gets greater, because you need money to realise the things that you want to achieve - producing becomes much more difficult. Initially I was going to produce Spider and Rose, but I relinquished that.
To be a good producer is a full-time job in itself and sometimes - often in fact - the roles of producer and director are contradictory. Really, for a producer to be doing his or her job well, that person needs to be in conflict at times with the director, and similarly for the director with the producer. The best producer-director collaborations are where there is a point of harmony between the two conflicting needs of those roles.
At the moment I'm reading a book about the making of Lawrence of Arabia, Sam Spiegel and David Lean, some of the rows that they used to have. But the result was, I think, a truly magnificent film.
What films did you make before A Street to Die?
As an independent film-maker, I had done two dramatised documentaries. One was called Cattle King, about Sir Sidney Kidman, and the other was called Shipwrecked, which was about a lone sailor coming across the Tasman in a race. Shipwrecked won the Sydney Film Festival award for best documentary. In many ways it was consistent with the themes of all my subsequent work.
It did, in fact, have quite a strong religious theme because this fellow who got shipwrecked - his name was Bill Belcher, a New Zealander, in his seventies - was stranded on a reef. His wife firmly believed that he was alive. When he'd been missing for 30 days, she was walking past a church, went in, knelt down and prayed, and - at this point everybody had given him up for dead - she suddenly knew that he would be all right. She walked home and the phone was ringing. She answered it and he had been picked up. But the story was really about a commitment between these two, the fact that she never gave up, she never lost faith.
A Street to Die was a very impressive first movie.
There have only been two films that I've made where I've cried during the making of the film. That was one and Malpractice was the other. Both I found to be very, very emotional experiences.
What led you to the story of A Street to Die?
I had seen it in a newspaper, the `Weekend Australian', a story with an aerial photograph of the street. It had all the Vietnam veterans on one side, I think, with the Korean veterans on the other. On the Vietnam side of the street in the photograph they had put all these little bubbles - with everything that was going wrong. The story was about a man called Simpson and his claims that Agent Orange was causing his problems.
I was astonished by this story and was expecting a series of follow-ups, but I looked through all the papers and there were no follow-ups at all. I thought, `This is crazy. This is a great story and it should be out there'. So I contacted the people and got a researcher to spend a few weeks in the street, to check it out, really, before I committed to it.
How much did you fictionalise the story? Did you stay with the facts?
It was hardly fictional at all. I actually worked very closely with the widow, writing a script. Once the script was written, I gave her a copy and she went through it and sanctioned it. She gave her stamp of approval before we went into production, so it was pretty accurate.
There was a scene with the doctor to whom the Chris Haywood character had been going and who had been consistently misdiagnosing his condition. He went to get a second opinion and was diagnosed as having lymphoma. This female doctor, rather than tell this man the news face-to-face, went into another room and phoned from there. I filmed that virtually word-for-word. It's exactly what happened. When it screened to audiences, people laughed. They couldn't believe it.
In making the documentaries and films like A Street to Die and Backlash, Malpractice and Mortgage, how did you see yourself as making
a serious contribution to Australian film-making?
I don't know that I really saw myself as anything other than I just having a very strong desire to tell these stories. Before I did A Street to Die, people said, `You can't write, produce and direct'. But I had written and produced and directed the two dramatised documentaries, so I thought, well, why can't I? And so I did.
A funny thing happened: A Street to Die was invited to all these film festivals overseas and I remember it was invited to the London Film Festival. I was a bit anxious about how it was going to be received and I didn't want to sit in the audience. But they asked me to introduce the film, which I did, and then I stayed outside. But then, part-way through, I went into the projection room. I don't know why I went into the projection room, maybe just to make sure that everything was going okay. Whenever the film's playing, I always do that, I always check with the projectionist first. I remember standing beside the projector and looking out through the little porthole to see the film on the screen, and I had this most curious sensation - as though I had not made the film. I was looking at it as though I was seeing it for the first time.
It started me thinking about what it is that a true film-maker does, the fact that really you are just a conduit. I think the best film-makers are merely a conduit for these stories and that the more you try to clog the channels with things like ego or ambition, or greed or whatever, the more the film becomes corrupted.
How was A Street to Die received in Australia?
It got a limited release. It seems that with a lot of my work, it always seems to be received better after the fact than during its time. That particular year it was nominated for the major AFI awards and I think it got a good response critically.
And Chris Haywood won the best actor award. Did you bring a particular perception of the Vietnam war to the film and try to communicate
some stance on war via the film?
I tried not to, actually, because I didn't see that as being what the film was about. I really saw it as being about the blindness of authorities to accept culpability. To that extent, I suppose, it is an anti-war film, but it was more to do with anti-bureaucracy and a very, very strong sense of injustice, that ultimately what was at work here was the possibility that, if a precedent was established, then huge amounts of money would have to be paid out.
The anti-bureaucracy theme is a link with Backlash.
It's interesting because, as a writer-director, when I start to think about a film, I don't think about it in terms of plot, I think about it in terms of theme. Then I often contrive a plot to explore a theme. In Backlash the theme that I really wanted to explore was, in broad terms, racism, but, specifically, people who are different. That was really what I wanted to explore.
I was also interested in the Aboriginal spirituality, which I tried to get across in the Brian Syron character and the sense of the spiritual aspect of the man.
The transition from city to land was important. How much of Backlash was improvised or did you write a screenplay?
It was totally improvised. I wrote it in the sense that I wrote, as with Malpractice, a scene by scene breakdown and, within that, I knew what dialogue needed to be spoken. But the actual words themselves were improvised. I went through quite a rigorous rehearsal process with the actors prior to shooting. We shot the picture in 18 days. It was very highly structured. I also wanted to shoot as closely as possible the chronology of the film.
The budget was low - $200,000 (and even in 1986 that was very little money) - but again I just had a very strong desire to tell a story. I gave no thought about how it was going to be received, because I figured that it was made on such a low budget that, if it bombed, if nobody ever saw it, then it wouldn't really matter. At least I'd be able to get some money from somewhere to pay the investors back. But as it turned out, the film was probably, per dollar spent, the most successful film I've done.
Brian Syron contributed an understanding of the deepening of the spirituality and the land. David Argue is such an eccentric screen presence so that, with his ability to improvise, the bigotry and the lack of understanding were very strong.
Yes, that really was what the film was about. And again, it was fuelled within myself by a very strong sense of injustice.
Jilted has been screened on television and Dear Cardholder is available on video.
Dear Cardholder was about how credit can really get you into trouble. Jilted explored the notion that people who have had a bad time in relationships sometimes have a distrust of going into other relationships. I look back on those two films and see that they were good attempts, but I think I went into them too quickly and I don't think the ideas were realised as well as they could have been. That's why, after those two, I didn't make another film for quite a long time.
Dear Cardholder was trying to be satirical and comic.
I was playing with that a little. I guess one of the reasons why I moved out of documentaries was because I do think that documentaries preach to the converted. In other words, if you're interested in exploring social themes for a wide audience and hoping to introduce new ideas to an audience that wouldn't necessarily accept them, then I do think that drama is the best way to go. Documentaries can be artfully done and can be very provocative, very profound and very powerful. But the fact is that people who watch documentaries normally go to them with a point of view consistent with that of the film-maker. You're not reaching people who perhaps haven't thought about these issues or are undecided. That's really the reason that I moved into drama, because I figured that I would be able to explore such themes but put them out to a larger audience. And I guess as part of that, I started dabbling in comedy, with Dear Cardholder in particular, which I don't think was very successful.
It was a touch black, with disaster coming at the end, whereas Jilted was more straightforward in terms of exploring relationships.
Yes, it was. Again I think that script could have done with another 12 months' work. After those two films I decided I'd go back and reskill myself and I took myself out of the market for a while and started to concentrate more on developing the skills that I thought I needed to tell stories.
Malpractice and Mortgage come next. Malpractice was certainly very striking. And audiences could empathise with the couple in Mortgage,
their frustration and the smooth sales talk.
I look back on both Mortgage and Malpractice with an honest affection. They were important films for me because I think they brought me back to my roots, to that sort of social realist form that I really love, and they also took me back to improvisation. I'd actually left Backlash vowing that I'd never do another improvised film because I found it very difficult. But I'm very proud of both films. That's not to say that I don't look at them now and know how I could improve them enormously, but Malpractice, in particular, was a very emotional experience for me and for everybody involved.
Film Australia produced them?
Yes, they financed them totally.
And they recur on television?
Yes, they do. Interestingly, Mortgage I've since been told has become something of a cult film in Canada. For some reason or other it just keeps on playing there and they love it. I don't know why.
In the late 80s you made other documentaries, The Chelmsford Scream and You Have No Secrets.
Both of those I did as a hired gun. The first was fronted by Ray Martin and I directed the dramatic story, which was all about Chelmsford hospital. The other was about information technology, about the use of computers and how they can affect us. It was a two hour special. I took it on because it enabled me to learn so much more about that side of a world that I knew nothing about.
You produced two documentaries written and directed by Lewis Fitz Gerald. There was Gadfly, about Francis James, The Last Man Hanged,
about Ronald Ryan.
I'd worked with Lewis on a documentary called The Banjo and the Bard, about the relationship between Henry Lawson and Banjo Paterson, and Lewis had always wanted to direct. My attitude to Lewis had been, `Nobody's going to give it to you on a platter. If you want to do something, then come up with an idea. If it's a good idea, then I'll help you'. And he came up with The Last Man Hanged which, perversely, was very, very close to my sensibility. Apart from the fact that I wanted to help Lewis get his first runs on the board as a director, the story was consistent with things that I'd done to that point. I certainly had a strong hand in the development of the project.
It is a particularly Catholic film.
Lewis Fitz Gerald is not a Catholic, but that's certainly a theme that came through very strongly. Interestingly, I've only seen one other film that I think has had a similar tone and theme and that's Eternity, which I think is a sensational film.
Ronald Ryan's death and the scenes with the chaplain, Fr Brosnan are striking. They are in the vein of Dead Man Walking. The whole feel is right.
Yes, you can almost smell it. I think Lewis did a wonderful job and it's certainly a film that I was very proud to have my name on.
Your worked for four years on Spider and Rose. You have spoken about comedy with Dear Cardholder. Did you see Spider and Rose
as comic or comic-serious?
No, I never really did. I always thought of it as being a drama that would have some funny bits in it. Right at the outset, in fact, in my discussions with the producers, I told everybody that this was not a comedy. I don't know how it's perceived now, as to whether or not it's perceived as a comedy. But even now I don't see the film as a comedy. I regard it as quite a serious treatise on the way we treat the aged.
This is the case when the focus is on Ruth Cracknell's character and on Max Cullen's. But you wrote Spider's role strongly as well, a kind of
flip style. Publicists and reviewers gave the impression of comedy. But it's certainly more serious when the audience is focussing on Ruth Cracknell's, Rose.
Yes, that's what the film was about. Spider had to be a young man who undergoes a journey, and there had to be conflict between the two of them. I don't know if I have a natural predilection to write characters like that but I know that, in fact, there's a lot of cruelty within Spider in those early scenes. A lot of the humour comes because he is so cruel.
Ruth Cracknell is a strong screen presence.
I kept a pretty tight rein on Ruth. I had a very clear picture of how that character had to be at any given moment. That's not to say that Ruth is not a wonderful actress. The purpose of the Max Cullen character was to show this woman that things were possible, that you can suffer tragedy but you don't need to succumb to it. The irony with his character, of course, is that when the crunch comes, he doesn't have the courage to go with her. It's a feminist film, if you like, in the sense that the men ultimately let this woman down and she has to act on her own.
Which means that the justice background seems very important when you look back on all your films, a strong sense of justice and
a strong humanity. Does the word `humanity' do justice to your films?
Yes, I think that humanity is critical to me, absolutely critical. It's fundamental. I can't go to a film unless there is a basic humanity and I get very tired of seeing films that don't treat people with intelligence or humanity or with respect. Justice, I guess, comes from my early days as a journalist when I saw so many things that seemed to me unfair. What probably rankles with me more than anything is an intransigent bureaucratic system that follows rules mindlessly and doesn't give any cognisance to the human factor. That, probably more than anything, is what gets me going.
Like the hospital scenes at the beginning of Spider and Rose?
Yes, very much so. Hospitals are a particular case in point. That's why Malpractice was made. When I was working as a television journalist for Mike Willesee, I was involved in a very bad car accident and I broke my back. I was in hospital for three months in the spinal unit at Royal North Shore. Probably my antipathy to the hospital system stems from that period. Mind you, I do think there are some extraordinary doctors working in the hospital system, in the public hospital system, but there is also a structure in place that is often mindless and intransigent.
Two If By Sea. What interested you in that project?
From Backlash on, I've been consistently approached by Hollywood. I don't think that's anything out of the ordinary because I think any Australian director who gets even a semblance of profile is approached at some point. I read a lot of scripts and I had rejected all of them. I've rejected some great scripts, some films that have made huge amounts of money.
But this one really appealed to me because it was ultimately about the core relationship between Sandra Bullock and the Dennis Leary character and about this man's dinosaur approach to relationships, the fact that he regarded his role as a male as providing an income - and that's basically where it ended. Because he did provide an income that allowed him then to virtually ignore his partner.
Recently I've noticed a lot of relationships breaking down - and it's the women in fact that are instigating separation - because they're just fed up with the fact that men aren't changing. Women have changed over the last 20 years, they've changed enormously, but men aren't keeping up. That's really what I wanted to explore in this: the fact that men have to lift their game if they want to keep any sort of relationship that's going to mean something to them. That is really the heart of the movie.
The title sounds solemn. But the basic plot of the robberies has the light touch. And Denis Leary has an odd screen presence.
Yes. Denis is a prickly character on and off camera. He himself is an enormously intelligent and a wonderfully contradictory character. He is, in fact, a very kind man. He's a very strong family man. In many ways he's the antithesis of his screen persona. But the characters he wrote are the people that he grew up with. He came from that part of Boston, that Irish part of Boston, and he knows those people. I think that when I got the script Denis didn't really know what he wanted to say. I worked for a long time with him and with the other writer to structure the script to explore the themes that I was really interested in.
The reality is that when you do a Hollywood movie on a budget of $20 million, as that was, and with a big star like Sandra Bullock, the film has to operate on an entertainment level. There were a couple of key scenes in the film - there's one at a dinner party where the Denis Leary talks about how, `We're not going to change. You're a cashier, I'm a thief. Get used to it. We're not like these people around here with these big houses and these fancy cars'. That, to me, was the essence of the film. It was this man saying, `Look, I can't change'.
But I do believe that as a society we can't really move into the next millenium unless we do change and unless there is a mutual sense of respect between the sexes.
I think as far as Sandra is concerned, the response in America might have had something to do, as well, with the question, `what's Sandra doing in a film with Denis Leary where he's swearing at her?', and things like that.
None of the critics have actually discussed what the film is about, and that's what annoys me. No-one has ever mentioned what I have attempted to do, other than Anna Maria Dell' Orsa in the Sydney Morning Herald. The Melbourne critics just crucified me.
So I won't be doing another comedy in Hollywood in a hurry. I want to go back now and do another social realist piece.
Interview: 11th April 1996
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Murder Ahoy

MURDER AHOY
UK, 1964, 93 minutes, Black and white.
Margaret Rutherford, Lionel Jeffries, Charles ‘Bud’ Tingwell, William Mervyn, Joan Benham, Stringer Davis, Nicholas Parsons, Miles Malleson, Derek Nimmo.
Directed by George Pollock.
The last of the four Miss Marple films with Margaret Rutherford, assisted by her real-life husband Stringer Davis. The film features Lionel Jeffries in a comic role an the captain of a ship. Charles Tingwell continues his appearances an Inspector Craddock.
The film in not based on an Agatha Christic novel but is an original screenplay based on an interpretation of the Miss Marple character by the writers. They seem to have generally captured Miss Marple's spirit, at least as played by Margaret Rutherford. She is herself again, full of derring-do with the help of Mr Stringer and even finishes up with a swashbuckling sword fight with William Mervyn an the villain. It is the last of a small but entertaining series.
1.The screenplay as an invention by the writers rather than based on an Agatha Christie novel? Their creation of an Agatha Christie-like Miss Marple, situation, murder mystery? Miss Marple’s characteristics? Manner of solving the mystery?
2.The opening, Miss Marple going to the shop and getting outfitted in her navy uniform? Going to the board of trustees, the welcome by the bishop, the trustee wanting to give his story, his being interrupted by the long speeches, the snuff and his death?
3.Miss Marple, the investigation, Inspector Craddock finding her on the steps? Her getting Mr Stringer’s help? Going to the boat, the captain welcoming her, having to give up his cabin, all the other officers having to take a step down in change of cabins, Humbert and his finishing up in the storeroom? Entertaining Miss Marple, the choir singing the navy songs? Her arrangements with Mr Stringer in the hotel, the signalling at night? The group going into the town and Mr Stringer following them?
4.Mr Stringer, his character, sidekick to Miss Marple – and the lights, the signal, coming to the boat? Encountering the vagrant man and his criticisms, the vagrant getting him out of his boat?
5.The captain, Lionel Jeffries and his bumbling, comedy? His exasperation with Miss Marple? Trying to get rid of her – but finally inviting her to stay? Breeze -Connington and his senior status? The matron and her attraction towards the captain? Dr Cromp and his breezy attitude towards the murders? Humbert and his place on the ship? Compton?
6.The various murders, the members of the crew being murdered? The group being sent in – the robberies on-shore? The cadets?
7.Miss Marple and her communicating with Inspector Craddock, the inspector coming on board, hiding in the boat? Miss Marple’s device for unmasking the villain?
8.Breeze-Connington, his explanations of his being passed over as admiral, his cooking the accounts, building up the money, for a lifestyle? The background of the various swords? Miss Marple and the fencing fight with Breeze- Connington?
9.The captain, his exasperation, his resigning – but his being exonerated? Declaring his love for the matron?
10.Miss Marple, the happy solution of the murders, her doing good with the trustees for the foundation?
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Philadelphia

PHILADELPHIA
US, 1993, 126 minutes, Colour.
Tom Hanks, Denzel Washington, Jason Robards, Antonio Banderas, Mary Steenburghen, Joanne Woodward
Directed by Jonathan Demme
Andy Beckett (Tom Hanks) works in a prestigious law firm in Philadelphia. He has not revealed to his superiors that he is HIV positive and is attending a clinic for AIDS. He is always able to brush off comments about lesions and his health.
After a collapse, he shaves his head and refuses to use any cosmetic make-up to conceal his condition. He is dismissed by the firm. He asks his colleague, Joe Miller (Denzel Washington), to represent him in a plea for unfair dismissal. Joe, an African American, is reluctant and discovers, through some incidents involving gay men and the criticism of his wife that he is homophobic. He takes the case.
The case becomes a civil rights event with protests and appeal to the Constitution in its founding city, the city of brotherly love, Philadelphia.
Joe calls Andy's boss who denies any prejudice on the part of the firm. As Andy gets weaker, he begins to plan his funeral, helped by his partner, Miguel. His family also supports him. He throws a party after which he explains something of himself to Joe by asking him to listen to a recording of Maria Callas singing.
Issues of sexuality, discrimination and illness emerge during the trial. Andy dies and Joe attends the funeral party.
Philadelphia became something of a landmark movie in the early 1990s, the first studio movie to deal directly with AIDS (though there had been a number of independent movies like Parting Glances, Longtime Companion and telemovies like Early Frost.)
Jonathan Demme's is a heartfelt movie which moves its audience. It is also a social justice case history like so many Hollywood movies over the decades.
It became more significant through the choice of the two leads, one black, one white. It is the lawyer played by Denzel Washington who represents the viewpoint of the mainstream public and audience with its wariness about AIDS and its conscious or unconscious homophobia. With a popular actor like Tom Hanks playing the man with AIDS, Philadelphia was able to break through audience suspicion and offer a broader view. Hanks won an Oscar for his performance (and won for Forrest Gump the next year). The Frank Oz comedy, In and Out, with Kevin Kline, takes as its starting point Hanks' Oscar-acceptance speech acknowledging the influence of a gay teacher.
There are many telling scenes like that with the uncomfortable librarian, Joe's encounter in the video store, Andy's illness and the famous scene where he and Joe listen to the opera.
Jonathan Demme had made Silence of the Lambs and went on to make Beloved.
1.A significant film of the 1990s? Its influence? (The serious influence – and the comic touch in Matt Dillon’s character accepting the Oscar in In And Out and its consequences? The impact of the film in its time? Awards and nominations?
2.The early 90s and the experience of the AIDS epidemic, the impact of the 80s, into the 90s? A 90s perspective? The effect on AIDS sufferers, those who had received blood transfusions)? The consequences, public concern? Health issues? Justice issues?
3.Themes of homosexuality in cinema, the tradition up to the 1990s, becoming more explicit? The issues of homophobia and tolerance? The pleading for respect? This film as a kind of treatise movie on the issues? The perspective on homosexual orientation, lifestyle, sexual behaviour? Public opinion and presuppositions about homosexuals – and especially about promiscuity, as indicated by the testimony against Andrew in the court case?
4.The significance of Tom Hanks in the central role, as a film icon, the influence on audiences watching, helping them to understand the issues and the persons? The intellectual response? The emotional response?
5.Tom Hanks as Andrew Beckett, his age, experience, his skill in his legal work, working with Joe Miller? In the company, the possibility of promotion? The various cases? Yet his private life, overhearing comments about faggots, keeping his relationship and orientation secret? His going to the doctor, the prognosis? The effect, his going to the office, Charles Wheeler and his dismissing Andrew? Andrew becoming sicker, the treatment? The lesions and his trying to cover them up? The makeup? His finally accepting his condition, his baldness, his getting weaker? The background of the dismissal – and the company using the accusation of a mislaid brief and incompetence?
6.The build-up the courtroom drama and courtroom drama interest? Through the character of Joe Miller, as played by Denzel Washington? The African American and the minority – significantly in this treatise film? The audience seeing his legal skills, his collaboration with Andrew Beckett? Andrew coming to him, asking him to take the case, his refusal? The challenge by his wife, about his prejudices, tolerance? His own fastidiousness, caution eg shaking hands etc? His final decision to take the case? His support? The audience seeing the case through the character of Joe Miller? His lack of understanding, his being tested? His research? His own beliefs? Issues of law, issues of morality? The pressure from his wife? The meeting with Andrew in the library, the librarian and the comment about being more comfortable in another room? The impact of his acceptance? The subpoena for Charles Wheeler?
7.The picture of Andrew’s parents, forty years of marriage, the celebration? The atmosphere of the party, Andrew and his telling his parents about his situation? Their support of him? Their going to the court? Joanne Woodward as his mother? The other members of the family? Their attitude towards Miguel?
8.Miguel, Antonio Banderas in one of his earliest American films? His background, his relationship with Andrew? The partnership, love and dependence? Miguel and his caring for Andrew? The medication? His finally being unable to administer the doses? The need for further care?
9.The background of demonstrations outside the courtroom?
10.The range of witnesses, the fellow workers, Andrew’s secrecy? The woman with the infected blood from the transfusion? The lawyer’s denial that Andrew was being discriminated against?
11.The effect on Andrew, his presence in the court, the doses of the medication, his thinking about his death, the decision to have the memorial party? The atmosphere of celebration? Yet the imminent death? The significance of the opera sequence, Andrew and his listening to Maria Callas, swaying, rapt in the music – and Joe observing? Trying to understand? A moving moment in emotional understanding for the audience?
12.Joe and the conduct of the court case, Andrew and the preparation for the questions and answers? The history of discrimination against him, people’s insults? His being accused of a promiscuous lifestyle? The pornographic cinema? The effect of this kind of exposure, at this time of his life, within this case?
13.Jason Robards as Charles Wheeler, a strong presence and character, the management of the firm? In himself, the previous relationship with Andrew, supporting and promoting? His taking the stand, the testimony?
14.Andrew’s collapse? At home? Joe going to tell the family about the verdict?
15.Andrew and his preparation for dying, the farewell – “I’m ready”? The funeral, Joe and his wife going? The movie glimpses of Andrew as a child – and the pathos for what had happened in his life? His death?
16.The film in the American mainstream, for a mainstream audience, influencing this kind of audience? The film as a classic on issues of homosexuality? The political and social implications?
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Stickup, The

THE STICKUP
US, 2001, 94 minutes, Colour.
James Spader, Leslie Stefanson, David Keith, John Livingston.
Directed by Rowdy Herrington.
The Stickup starts as a routine chase film, a man fleeing with a bag of money pursued by the police. However, it ultimately turns out that no-one is as they seem and audiences are continually having to reassess what they saw and what they heard.
The film was written and directed by Rowdy Herrington who has a mixed career with such thrillers as Roadhouse and Striking Distance, murder mysteries like A Murder of Crows, social comment in Mexico like I Witness and a complete change of form with the very positive and inspiring golf film, Bobby Jones: Stroke of Genius. He worked with James Spader in his first film, Jack’s Back, as well as I Witness and The Stickup.
James Spader had a long career on-screen, often in supporting roles but made a mark after 2000 on television with success and Emmy awards in The Practice and Boston Legal.
David Keith also had star days in such films as An Officer and a Gentleman but in later years made made-for-television or video thrillers.
The film is interesting – and grows more interesting as the complications emerge, so that by the end, the audience has to pay attention.
1.Interesting crime thriller? The opening, the car chase, the money on the seat of the car, the crashes, John Parker and his evading capture, the pursuing police and the accident?
2.The strength of the screenplay, the wit of the dialogue, the complications, audiences thinking that they have seen one thing while they have seen another, especially with the robbery, with John Parker in the church, the relationship with Natalie, the role of the local police, the Los Angeles police squad and Internal Affairs, the squad that John Parker belonged to – all building up to a final and violent confrontation?
3.The character of John Parker, James Spader’s screen presence and style? Seeing him in the car, the money, eluding the police, the crash, finding out that he was shot? In the church? The flashbacks, in the bar, his relationship with Natalie, spending the night with her, cleaning up the house, leaving early in the morning? His being accused of robbing the bank? In the hospital, her tending to his wounds, taking him home? His explaining that he was police? The flashback, the siege of the drug king in Los Angeles, the squad working together, the deaths? His partner praying for forgiveness? The impact of his death? The background of his wife leaving him? The Internal Affairs, the interrogation, his reactions, when asked about his partner’s sins? His walking out and disappearing? His confrontation with Ray, the irony of the revelation of the truth? The information about the TV surveillance, that he could not have been the bank robber? The FBI agent putting the scenario together? Ray and his attack on Natalie, taking her hostage? Going for the money, John Parker and his shrewdness, shooting through the floor, injuring Ray? The arrival of his fellow officers and their trying to kill him? His shrewdness in getting out of the house, the gunfire, saving Natalie? The FBI arriving? His being taken, interrogated, his being offered the chance to testify against corruption in the police force, his accepting it? The finale with him on the tropical beach with Natalie?
4.FBI agent Rick Kendall, young, referring to his work in the academy, going to ask the woman about the suitability of the agent, her reaction, the phone call? His going to be in charge? Audiences thinking he was going to be inept, his references to training, this being his first bank robbery? In fact, his shrewdness, identifying Parker, contacting the Los Angeles police, their collaboration, his getting the surveillance tape, his trying out the timing for Parker being able to disguise himself? His realisation of what had happened? The FBI agents coming, supervising him, his joking attitude towards them? The finale and the shoot-out, his achievement and promotion?
5.Natalie, the separation from Ray, in the bar, her drinking, picking up Parker, taking him home? Her untidy house? At work in the hospital, her story of living in the town, being born in the hospital, wanting to get out, asking for half the money? Tending the wounds? Going back to her home, the confrontation with Ray, the truth about what had happened? Her being taken hostage, Parker saving her, their pursuit in the woods? The happy ending?
6.Ray and his partner, the pursuit of Parker? The accident, the partner and his broken legs, Ray and his injuries? The sheriff being away on holidays? The discussions with the FBI agent? The antagonism towards Natalie? The gradual revelation that he was the robber, shooting Parker? The real nature of the pursuit? His taking Natalie hostage, wanting Parker to give him the money, Parker wounding him, his pursuit? His being arrested – and he and his partner in jail, the partner wondering whether people would know that they were police?
7.The Los Angeles flashbacks, the attack on the drug king, meticulously planned, the drug king driving into the house, the shootings, Mitchell’s death? The talk about sins? The flashback that he wanted to get out of the conspiracy work that they had done? Getting the drug money and the corruption, the equivalent of bribes? Lieutenant Marino and his being in the Internal Affairs interrogation, the other members of the group, Marino’s arrival in the town after his collaboration on the phone, the real reason, the others arriving, their wanting to kill John Parker before he testified? The siege of the house, the shoot-out?
8.How interesting the different twists? Appearances versus reality?
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In Her Defence/ Total Defence

IN HER DEFENCE
Canada, 1999, 95 minutes, Colour.
Marlee Matlin, Michael Dudikoff, Sophie Lorain, Daniel Pilon.
Directed by Sidney J. Furie.
In Her Defence is a popular psychological melodrama, a story of love and betrayal, of a man being framed by a shrewd murderess and her accomplice.
The film stars Marlee Matlin (Oscar for Children of a Lesser God) who appeared in a similar kind of role at the same time in the telemovie, When Justice Fails. She carries off the double character of the devoted woman as well as the cold and calculating murderer. Michael Dudikoff is best known as an action star and it is a bit disconcerting to see him playing a high-powered attorney. The film is a Canadian production, filmed in Canada in St John, New Brunswick. The director is Sidney J. Furie, a Canadian who spent the 1960s in England and made a number of significant films, went to Hollywood and was particularly successful during the 1970s with such films as Lady Sings the Blues. He has continued making films from the 80s through the 90s and onwards.
1.The popularity of this kind of psychological drama? Love and betrayal? The court case?
2.The Canadian settings, the city of St John, New Brunswick? The atmosphere of the city, the visuals, the buildings, the landscapes, the sea? The musical score?
3.The framework of the film: Robert St Laurent and his talking into the tape recorder, his description of the perfect murder, the ingredients, the situation, characters…? His final comments on the human factor and errors?
4.The focus on Andrew Garfield, the high-flying lawyer, the clashes with Robert and with Debra? The past antagonism? His ambitions? The scenes in the gymnasium, the boxing, the rivalry with Debra? Her taking him to the art exhibition? His admiring the painting, his meeting Jane, the attraction, seeing her husband’s treatment of her? His sympathy, going to the house, the beginning of the affair? The threats from the husband, his arrival? The self-defence, shooting him? The repercussions for himself and for Jane? Getting rid of the body – and the autopsy not being able to pinpoint who did the murder?
5.The character of Andrew, his decision to defend Jane? In the courts, Robert and Debra and the cross-examinations, the various witnesses? Character witnesses? Jane’s mother and her alienation from her daughter, the change of name, the daughter and the ambitions to marry well? The producing of the financial adviser, the phone calls, his expenses, the revelation of fraud? His being blamed for the murder? Andrew and his handling of the case? While carrying on the relationship with Jane? Supporting her during the case?
6.Jane, her deafness, the sign language, her speaking, lip-reading? Andrew and his explanation of knowing sign language? Her marriage, the financial arrangements, her inheriting the money? Her husband dying rather than the divorce for her to get the money? In the court, her listening and reading the signs? Her support of Andrew?
7.Debra, her friendship and support of Andrew? Her support of Robert?
8.Frank, his indebtedness to Andrew because of his alcoholism and reform? His getting information, Andrew refusing it? The irony of its turning up after Frank’s death in the mall, shot at the sound of the balloon bursting? The information about Debra and Jane?
9.The prosecution having extra evidence, withdrawing the charges, Jane going free? The prospects for the future? Andrew uncomfortable?
10.Andrew, the information, Debra and Jane, going to the house, finding them together? Jane and her declaration that she really loved him? Debra and her explanation of the conspiracy, taking him to the exhibition, judging that he would go right through with the relationship? Setting up the times, the phone calls for the husband’s return? Changing the guns? Shooting Frank?
11.The finale, Andrew charged with conspiracy? The two women and their arrest? Robert’s comments about what had happened? A satisfying psychological thriller?
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Saturday, 18 September 2021 18:57
In the Name of the Father

IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER
Ireland/UK, 2003, 133 minutes, Colour.
Daniel Day Lewis, Emma Thompson, Pete Postlethwaite, John Lynch, Mark Sheppard, Beatie Edney, Marie Jones, Corin Redgrave, Don Baker, Paterson Joseph.
Directed by Jim Sheridan.
In the Name of the Father is one of several very successful and moving films made by Jim Sheridan during the 1990s. Sheridan had made an impact with his biography of Christy Brown, My Left Foot (1989) for which he was nominated for an Oscar and which won Oscars for Daniel Day Lewis as best actor and Brenda Fricker as best supporting actress. He then went on to make the Oscar-nominated The Field, a bleak story of a family in the west of Ireland in the 1920s. Then came In the Name of the Father which was followed by The Boxer, a tough story of Ireland with Daniel Day Lewis and Emily Watson.
In the 1980s, Jim Sheridan had migrated to New York City with his wife and children. This became the subject of a sweet and somewhat sentimental story, In America, also receiving many Oscar nominations. However, he surprised all his fans with his 2006 film, Get Rich or Die Trying with the rapper, Fifty Cents.
In the Name of the Father has a strong screenplay which was written by Terry George, with whom he had collaborated with other films. George also made after this his own story about the Troubles in Northern Ireland, especially Bobby Sands and The Maze prison, Some Mothers’ Sons. (Terry George also went on to direct the highly successful and incisive Hotel Rwanda.)
The film recreates the period of the 70s, the Troubles in Belfast. It has fine performances by Daniel Day Lewis as the young Gerry Conlon who has to mature through his experiences in jail and his interaction with his father. Pete Postlethwaite received an Oscar nomination for his portrayal of Giuseppe Conlon, a good man, framed, suffering in prison – but having the possibility of getting to know and understand his son. (It is pointed out that a lot of the details of the film are not entirely accurate, for instance, Giuseppe and Gerry Conlon did not share a cell as shown in the film. It is a kind of Irish mythologising on the part of Sheridan about issues of the Troubles as well as relationships between fathers and sons.)
There is strong support, especially from Emma Thompson as the lawyer Gareth Pierce, who takes up the cause of the Conlons. The strong supporting cast includes John Lynch as Paul Hill and an icy Corin Redgrave as Robert Dixon, the man responsible for the condemnation of the Guildford Four.
1.Acclaim for the film? Awards and nominations? A critique of the British justice system? A portrait of the Troubles in Northern Ireland? Impact for Irish and British audiences? For world audiences?
2.The impact of the film, the re-creation of life during the Troubles in Belfast, ordinary families, the military presence, bombings, pursuits and arrests? Prison sentences? Prison and the details of prison life? The British courts? The Irish reaction, the feelings of the 70s and 80s? The musical score and the Irish overtones?
3.The title, The Lord’s Prayer? The religious dimensions of the film? Giuseppe Conlon and his Catholicism? The importance of the relationship between father and son? The family drama, the father and his imprisonment, his innocence, his crusade, the effect on his son? The irony that Giuseppe and Gerry Conlon did not spend so much time in the same cell? Mythmaking about the relationship between father and son?
4.The background of the IRA, its history? Belfast and the 1970s? The conflicts between the IRA and the British military? The presence of the British troops? The riots, the bombs and shooting, for ordinary people, the effect on the Conlons? Gerry Conlon considered unsuitable for the police and getting a job? His attempts? The significance of the British action in Ireland and of British legislation after the 70s? Unlimited detention, the attitude towards terrorism, interrogations and torture?
5.The presentation of the British authorities, the law, the judge and Louise? The physical and verbal abuse of prisoners, torture? The pressures on the prisoners? Forced confessions? Innocent and ignorant scapegoats? The role of public opinion in the UK, condemnatory of Irish terrorism? Secret files, material not shown to the defence? Official lies? Truth being told but its being ignored? The change of attitude in the 80s, archives being opened, the truth being told, the expose of judicial officials, of the police? The aftermath and the freeing of Gerry Conlon and fellow prisoners?
6.The Guildford Four? The actual bombings and destruction? Public opinion? The need for prosecution? The leads, the arrest of Gerry and the others? The nature of the court case, the confessions and interrogation? The desperate confessions? Fear?
7.Daniel Day Lewis as Gerry Conlon, making something of a heroic figure of someone who in real life was not so heroic? The tearaway teenager, young man? With the gangs, using drugs, petty robbery, petty criminal? His family background? His relationship with his father, his father being strict, the reprimand about cheating at games? A good young man, with bad? The tape, Mrs Pierce? The family scenes, stealing, his showing off? The sniper, the chase, the damage? The role of Sinn Fein? Giuseppe and his reaction to his son’s behaviour, his mother’s concern? Getting him to the United Kingdom, to the wharf? The meeting with Paul Hill? The irresponsible friendship?
8.Gerry and his going to London, his meeting with his aunt, finding flats, accommodation? The range of friends, relationships, the squat? The drugs? Relationships, ambitions? Stealing from the prostitute? The old man? The phone calls?
9.Sleeping in the park, being chased, the arrests? The brutality and the treatment, the protests? Gerry and his being in Ireland, deported to the UK? The reaction to his aunt, her arrest, her children, the detention?
10.The seven days of interrogation, the pressure, the torture?
11.Dixon, his official stance, other authorities? The decisions made, the prejudices, the making of a good impression? Public opinion? Later, the authorities and the law? The winning of the case and his wife? Later and the exposure of the lies? The archives and the loss of protection? The irony of Gareth Pearce and her getting the file?
12.The character of Giuseppe Conlon? Pete Postlethwaite’s performance, sympathy? A good man, trying his best at home, relationship with his wife, children, concern about Gerry? His talk with his son, angers, Gerry thinking that his father never thought he would be good enough? His love for him? The framing of Giuseppe Conlon? His sharing the cell with his son? A chance for each to get to know each other? Gerry, his behaviour in the jail, his coming under the influence of McAndrew? McAndrew? and his being one of the bombers? Gerry and the drugs, becoming more sullen? The importance of the prayer, the image of Calvary? Giuseppe, the crusade? His illness? The cold, Gerry helping? Their being reconciled, Gerry taking up the cause? The arrival of Gareth Pierce? Giuseppe’s death? Gerry vindicating his father? The title?
13.The case, the witnesses, Paul Hill, the various people in the flat, Paddy Armstrong, Carole Richardson? The importance of Annie Maguire and the condemnation of all of them? Their innocence, the hardships in prison? The long time in prison?
14.Gareth Pierce, her legal background, her looking at the evidence in the 1980s, the tape, going to visit Gerry? Her being persuaded of the truth of the case? Her attitude towards Giuseppe? Her research, the archives, interrogations? Dixon? Her building up her case, the presentation of the case? Her finding the file not to be shown to the defence? Charlie Burke’s confirmation for an alibi for Hill and Conlon? The appeal hearing? Her speeches? The stances of the judge? The sentence against the Guildford Four being quashed? Their being freed? Gerry Conlon in the courtroom, his pledge about his father? Clearing his good name?
15.The prison sequences, the detail of life in prisons in the 70s and 80s? The attitudes of the authorities, the warders? The drama of the sequence where McAndrew? was stirring up hate against the warders, the flamethrower and the warder being injured? The irony of Gerry showing compassion and going to his rescue? His disillusionment with McAndrew? The possibilities of some kind of truth, maturing and redemption? The parallels with Giuseppe’s death – and the warders all lighting the candles and throwing them into the snow in memory and tribute to him?
16.The importance of Catholicism for Giuseppe Conlon, the background of the gospels, his being a suffering Christ figure? The impact of his father’s example on Gerry?
17.A successful film in alerting audiences to this aspect of Irish history, of the Troubles, of British attitudes, of injustices and prejudice?
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Saturday, 18 September 2021 18:57
She's the Man

SHE’S THE MAN
US, 2005, 106 minutes, Colour.
Amanda Bynes, Channing Tatum, Laura Ramsay, Vinnie Jones, Robert Hoffmann, Alex Breckenbridge, Julie Hagerty, David Cross, Jonathan Sidowski Torti, James Snyder, James Kirk.
Directed by Andy Fickman.
Not the greatest teen movie that ever was, despite the basis in Shakespeare. The writers of She’s the Man include Karen Mc Cullah Lutz who adapted The Taming of the Shrew for the high school comedy Ten Things I Hate About You (as well as Legally Blonde and the Cinderella adaptation, Ella Enchanted). Ten Things worked much better than She’s the Man, which is an adaptation of Twelfth Night. The cast was better, the screenplay wittier – and it did not have the difficulty of disguise.
It is almost impossible to do disguise plausibly in cinema close-up. It works on stage because audiences accept the conventions and accept the fact that characters are not recognising each other. On screen, however, and in a ‘realistic’ setting, it defies belief. This is especially the case here because, despite her macho posturings and trying to be one of the boys, Amanda Bynes cannot really pass herself off as a boy. And, she does not look too much like her brother. And, Shakespeare’s Viola never had to share a college room with Duke Orsino, nor run the risk of exposure (in all senses) in the shower block, nor try to get on the Illyrian soccer team.
It is interesting and amusing to see how the writers try to get all the Twelfth Night elements into their screenplay with variations on names, situations and people falling in love as well as the disguises. But, as the main line from the play which is quoted here, some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them, this does not apply here. This one is a modicum of enjoyment.
1.The appeal for the teenage audience? For girls? Boys? For adults?
2.The film based on Shakespeare, Twelfth Night? The parallels in the plot? Characters? The plot devices – how well do they transfer to the United States, to a youth culture and high school? The elimination of Shakespearian lines except for ‘Some are born great…’?
3.The American city, family homes, restaurants, schools, dorms, the playing fields, the shower block? The popular ingredients for audience identification? The musical score and songs?
4.The plausibility of the plot? In Shakespeare’s day? The fact that the female roles were played by male actors? The contrast with the film, the close-ups, audiences being able to see the differences in appearance? The female troupe pretending to be male?
5.Viola’s story: at home, her mother fussing, the absent father? Her mother being ladylike, with the other mothers, wanting Viola to be genteel? Her playing soccer, on the beach, goal-scoring? The Cornwall Academy – and the girls’ soccer team being disbanded? Her reaction? Her brother going to London, his interest in music? Her having to cover for him? Going to his new school, Illyria Prep? Viola’s decision to masquerade as Sebastian, to get into the soccer team? Her friend Paul, the makeover to make her look like a boy? Her posing as her brother at the school, her attempts to convince everyone that she is a boy, the coach, the principal? Sharing the room with Duke? Her exaggerated mannerisms to show that she was macho – and the humorous jokes about the Barbie theme on her phone, the tampons and her explanation that they are useful for nosebleeds (and Duke following that later)?
6.Viola in the dorm, sharing with Duke, he and his friends thinking he was strange? Olivia being attracted to him? Viola’s girlfriends in on the act? Making Duke jealous? The change of attitude? Duke and his friendship with Sebastian, the irony of the carnival and his meeting Viola as herself, the romance, at the sideshow? And his confiding in Sebastian? Olivia and her attraction towards Sebastian? The romantic complications?
7.The coach, Viola playing soccer, her bargain with Duke, her helping him with Olivia, his coaching her with soccer moves? The difficulties in the dorm – especially the shaving issue, showering, privacy?
8.The two weeks continuing, her mother wanting her to go to the debutantes’ ball, her trying to avoid everything feminine? The discussions with Olivia, Olivia’s attraction? Duke and his attraction to Olivia? The restaurant sequences? Duke and his girlfriend – and Sebastian’s girlfriend, the clashes in the restaurant? Malcolm as the Malvolio figure – sinister?
9.Sebastian’s return, Olivia kissing him, Duke seeing this? The consequences with the treatment of Sebastian? His going onto the soccer team, his being inept at the game? The reaction of the coach?
10.Viola, trying to get to the football, the hold-ups? The gradual discovery of the truth, her changing with Sebastian? Her appearing as a girl – and saving the match?
11.The explanation of the complications, Viola admitting the truth, Sebastian as himself? The later debutante’s ball – and Duke and Viola together? Sebastian and Olivia? And ‘all’s well that ends well’ as a combination of Shakespeare and high school comedy?)
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Shaggy Dog, The/ 2006

THE SHAGGY DOG
US, 2006, 99 minutes, Colour.
Tim Allen, Robert Downey Jr, Kristen Davis, Danny Glover, Spencer Breslin, Zina Gray, Jane Kirtain, Philip Baker Hall, Joshua Leonard.
Directed by Brian Levant.
The Shaggy Dog is really a shaggy dog for younger audiences and tolerant parents. It was told in the late 1950s with Fred Mac Murray becoming a dog and learning a lesson or two about life and relationships from his dog’s eye view. Dean Jones had the same experience in the 1970s with The Shaggy DA. This time round, Tim Allen (who co-produced) is a DA who is prosecuting a protestor who alleges that a company is conducting experiments with animals and who, while getting his daughter out of the protest lie-down, is bitten by the real shaggy dog (who is from Tibet and has lived for several hundred years) and turns shaggy himself (and back again) at irregular times. So, there you are.
The shaggy is quite impressive and is beloved of the DAs two critical (and sometimes annoying – to the audience as well) children. The DAs wife is wondering whether he has stopped loving her. And he is far too busy for his family. There’s nothing like turning into a pet dog to hear what the family really think and feel. Will the DA become human again – in all senses of the plot?
In the meantime the pantomime villain, all tics and resentment against his boss who wants the dog’s potion to live forever, bribing his mercenary assistants, lies his way through the trial and trying to work out which dog is which. And, you guessed it. He is bitten and gets poetic canine justice. The fact that he is played by Robert Downey Jr taking time off from more serious films means that you get an intriguing blend of acting and mugging. But, if you choose to see this shaggy dog story, what more could you want?
1.The popularity of the original film? The idea of the transformation of a man into a dog? The dog and the human qualities combining to give a man extrasensory perception? The sequels? The film of The Shaggy DA? All combined here for a 21st century version?
2.The fantasy elements, the appeal to the contemporary audience, younger audiences, to adults? The story, the fantasy, the jokes, the slapstick?
3.The prologue: Tibet, the long-living dog, the monks, the abduction of the dog – and the corny criminals? The transfer of the dog to Los Angeles? To the pharmaceutical company? The cages, the range of animals in captivity?
4.Dr Kozak as the villain, sinister, comic strip villain? His interaction with the boss of the company? The boss and his wanting to live longer? The experiments to get the secret from the dog, the chemical components? The unscrupulous lab assistants? On the verge of success?
5.Justin Forrester, in court, the protest against animal experimentation? The animal rights activists? Dave Douglas and his prosecuting him? The protests outside the company? Douglas’s daughter and her participation? The final vindication of Forrester and his accusations?
6.Dave Douglas, the DA, his being self-assured, his manner in the court? The contrast with life at home, his daughter and her disdain? Her modern dress? Going to the protest? His son? The alienation from his wife, tension at home?
7.His boss, his being put on notice to make a success of the case? His going to retrieve his daughter, the protesters, the dog, his being bitten – and his transformation? His waking up with heightened senses, like a dog? At home? In the courtroom – and his behaviour, his antics? The reaction of the judge, of his boss, with Dr Kozak? His falling asleep, returning to human form? As a dog, his children and their liking for the dog, his wife and the dog? His overhearing his children discussing how he is as a father? Discovering his wife’s tension? His absence, writing the note? His confrontation with Dr Kozak? Finding the real dog? Going to the lab, being captured, his smart means of escape through the complex laboratory, freeing the animals and their helping him? Trying to get to the court, turning into a dog, on the court steps, the transformation in front of his family? His final vindication in the court? His cross-examination of Dr Kozak, Dr Kozak? and his having been bitten – and his behaviour as a dog in the court? The happy reconciliation with his family? Lessons learnt by being a dog?
8.Dr Kozak, his ambitions, his denials in the court, tracking down the dog, retrieving it from the pound? The two assistants and their greed? His confrontation with the owner, not giving him the potion? His behaviour in court, his being bitten, his antics in the courtroom as a dog?
9.The two assistants, their skills, plotting, conniving with the plans, unscrupulous animal experimentation, wanting the money? Their comeuppance?
10.The portrait of the family, the son and his attitude towards his father, the daughter and her surliness? Their discussing the situation, their going to the pound, getting the dog, mixing it up with their father, his overhearing their discussions? His wife, the gifts of flowers, her misunderstandings? His attempts to rectify the matter? The happy reconciliation?
11.The court proceedings, Dave’s boss and his exasperation? The judge and her exasperation? Everything finally put to rights?
12.Popular Disney material, animals and humans, dogs as pets, parents and their realising how to treat their children?
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