Secret Histories of Queer Melbourne

If your perception of history is that it’s the dry and dusty domain of tweedy old academics, this accessible and engaging publication from the Australian Lesbian & Gay Archives (ALGA) will surely change the way you think about the discipline.

An account of the travails and triumphs of Melbourne’s lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans and intersex – or ‘queer’ (to use the umbrella term that has grown in popularity since it was first introduced to Australia circa 1991) – community from the 18th to the 21st centuries, the book makes no claim to be a comprehensive history. Rather, as its editors acknowledge in their introduction, it is a series of ‘snapshots, fragments, vignettes’; a collage of histories told over 51 chapters, written by 12 separate authors.

Having grown out of a series of history walks presented by the ALGA at Midsumma and similar festivals, the book’s tone is accessible, concise, and distinctly non-academic despite the qualifications and careers of its various contributors. It is also immaculately researched, with an array of footnotes providing proof of the writers’ and editors’ rigorous approach to their subject.

“The history of queer Melbourne is stored in documents, in newspapers and magazines, in police and court records,” writes co-editor and author Graham Willett in one chapter of Secret Histories of Queer Melbourne, and certainly much of what we know about early queer life comes from incidents where gay or bisexual men came into contact with the law, such as the case of Yackandandah resident John Morrison, who in 1870 was sentenced to ten years hard labour for the ‘abominable crime’ of buggery. As an additional punishment, in the first six months of his sentence, Morrison was flogged three times, each time receiving 50 lashes from the cat-o’-nine tails.

Elsewhere, Willett acknowledges the difficulties of researching queer lives in periods when homosexuality was both illegal and taboo:

“When we speculate upon the sexuality and sexual identity of people who lived in times so very different to our own, we are always on uncertain ground. Unless they are caught in the act, or write about themselves in unambiguous ways, we are forced to try harder to find our way into their lives.”

The authors of Secret Histories of Queer Melbourne have clearly tried very hard indeed, and with considerable success.

From the fascinating account of bushranger Captain Moonlite (after his lover James Nesbitt was killed in a police shootout, Moonlite ‘wept over him like a child, laid his head upon his breast and kissed him passionately’ and later, throughout his trial, wore a ring on his finger made of a lock of Nesbitt’s hair) through to the flappers and ‘fast women’ of the Roaring Twenties (such as the trail-blazing Alice Anderson, who opened an all-women’s garage in Kew in 1919); from secretive wartime romances, and nocturnal assignations in Melbourne’s parks and laneways interrupted by the police, through to the gay pride movement of the 1970s and the AIDS activists of the early 1990s, three centuries of queer life are detailed, explored and entertainingly speculated upon.

The book is not without its faults – for instance, Michael Connors’ chapter on AIDS activist group ACT-UP describes the group’s 1991 ‘D-Day’ campaign (which saw the St Kilda Road floral clock deflowered in a late night raid in which the blooms were replaced with small crosses signifying the deaths of people with HIV/AIDS due to government inaction) as a ‘masterpiece of media activism’, when in reality the ensuing media storm caused the group to fracture under the pressure and blame the floral clock attack as the work of rogue elements – but overall it is an fascinating, detailed, and rewarding study of queer life in the Victorian capital.

Secret Histories of Queer Melbourne
Editors: Graham Willett, Wayne Murdoch & Daniel Marshall
Paperback, 172 pages, $40 RRP
Australian Lesbian & Gay Archives

Review: SECRET HISTORIES OF QUEER MELBOURNE

If your perception of history is that it’s the dry and dusty domain of tweedy old academics, this accessible and engaging publication from the Australian Lesbian & Gay Archives (ALGA) will surely change the way you think about the discipline.

An account of the travails and triumphs of Melbourne’s lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans and intersex – or ‘queer’ (to use the umbrella term that has grown in popularity since it was first introduced to Australia circa 1991) – community from the 18th to the 21st centuries, the book makes no claim to be a comprehensive history. Rather, as its editors acknowledge in their introduction, it is a series of ‘snapshots, fragments, vignettes’; a collage of histories told over 51 chapters, written by 12 separate authors.

Having grown out of a series of history walks presented by the ALGA at Midsumma and similar festivals, the book’s tone is accessible, concise, and distinctly non-academic despite the qualifications and careers of its various contributors. It is also immaculately researched, with an array of footnotes providing proof of the writers’ and editors’ rigorous approach to their subject.

“The history of queer Melbourne is stored in documents, in newspapers and magazines, in police and court records,” writes co-editor and author Graham Willett in one chapter of Secret Histories of Queer Melbourne; and certainly much of what we know about early queer life comes from incidents where gay or bisexual men came into contact with the law, such as the case of Yackandandah resident John Morrison, who in 1870 was sentenced to ten years hard labour for the ‘abominable crime’ of buggery. As an additional punishment, in the first six months of his sentence, Morrison was flogged three times, each time receiving 50 lashes from the cat-o’-nine tails...

Read the full review at Arts Hub.

The changing face of me (part one in a series)

Sharing a laugh with horror film maestro George Romero at Triple R on Monday July 28, 2008. (Photo by Donna Morabito)

May, 2008: Melbourne Zombie Shuffle (Photo: Brian Villamin)

Anti-racist protest, Fawkner, March 1997 (Photo by Grebo)


A punk pub-crawl, Melbourne, circa 1996 (Photo: Ian Cook)

Sarah Sands Hotel, Brunswick, circa 1990.

March, 1986, shortly after moving out of home aged 17.
(Photo: John Stewart)

Review: The Lost Story of the Magdalen Asylum

An evocative though not entirely successful site-specific work by Melbourne company Peepshow Inc, The Lost Story of the Magdalen Asylum draws on the history and atmosphere of the Abbotsford Convent, where Peepshow have been based since 2005, to tell a story of hope, deprivation, and religious devotion.

Like the company’s earlier work, The Mysteries of the Convent, this new production is a meticulously researched and historically accurate rendering of the lives of real people: nuns, prostitutes, penitents and others, whose stories have been woven into a theatrical presentation incorporating a range of disciplines. Puppetry plays a key role in a number of scenes, acrobatic skills are also called into play, while lighting and sound design are judiciously employed to enrich the performances of the two players, Teresa Blake and Carole Patullo.

The Lost Story of the Magdalen Asylum is set in a portion of the former Convent of the Good Shepherd that – unlike other areas of the precinct, which now house studios, galleries, and even a bakery – has not previously been opened up to the public. It is here, in the decrepit dormitories of the Magdalen Asylum, which once housed orphans, wards of the State and girls considered to be in ‘moral danger’, as well as the former industrial laundries where they toiled each day, that Peepshow has chosen to stage their new production.

The echoing halls of the Asylum may have been cleared of decades of pigeon droppings – not to mention cleared as a temporary performance space by WorkSafe inspectors – but its echoing halls are still pungent with a palpable sense of decay and misery which adds significantly to the production as it unfolds.

The opening scenes swiftly and effectively introduce the audience – limited to a maximum of 25 people at a time – to the setting and stories of the Asylum by focusing on the experiences of one Rose Lawler (1875 – 1926), a former Convent resident. We see her trudge towards the Convent doors in the rain, carrying a suitcase from which the narrator’s voice and judicious sound effects play.

In the next scene, and in another room, the scale of the story changes: Rose is a doll trudging up a slope made of heaped dirt, and the Asylum is a birdcage, in which Rose is soon imprisoned. It’s a poignant and beautiful image, heartbreaking in its simplicity, and more than effectively conveying the emotional truths of Rose’s story.

A similarly effective piece of stagecraft is employed in this scene to introduce the four Irish nuns who founded the Convent of the Good Shepherd, and so effective is it that I will say no more about it, so as to avoid diluting its impact for future audiences.

Unfortunately, from this point on, as the audience were awkwardly herded out into a courtyard, and thence upstairs through a progressive series of rooms and scenes, The Lost Story of the Magdalen Asylum began to lose its impact. It may have been opening night nerves, but the performers seemed uneasy in or unused to their multiple roles, an impression that was not helped by the occasional awkward and clunky lines of dialogue they were forced to spout. A scene presenting the theories of Italian criminologist Cesare Lombroso about ‘depraved women’ was effectively staged, but its comedic tone seemed at odds with the overall atmosphere of the production; while the final scene, performed outside, beneath the spreading branches of the Separation Oak (planted circa 1850 to mark the separation of Victoria from the colony of NSW) seemed entirely extraneous.

History buffs are sure to enjoy The Lost Story of the Magdalen Asylum, and with time, and additional polishing, it may yet develop into an engaging work; as it currently stands the work fails to sustain the drama and emotion of its opening moments throughout, save for one or two startling and moving moments of stagecraft in the production’s penultimate scene.

Peepshow Inc presents The Lost Story of the Magdalen Asylum at Abbotsford Convent, September 11 – October 2

Director: Melinda Hetzel

Writer/Dramaturg: Kylie Trounson

Performers: Teresa Blake & Carole Patullo

Composition: Teresa Blake & & Steph O’Hara

Sound Design: Steph O’Hara

Set/Costume Design: Dayna Morrissey

Lighting Design: Danny Pettingill

www.peepshowinc.com

Melbourne Fringe Festival, September 22 – October 10

www.melbournefringe.com.au

This review originally appeared at www.artshub.com.au

Talking Shit

Richard Watts talks with filmmaker Bert Deling about his 1975 masterpiece Pure Shit, which has just been released on DVD after years in the wilderness.


In 1975, the soft-focus historical melodrama Picnic at Hanging Rock was the acceptable face of the Australian film industry. It, not Burt Deling’s low budget junkie drama Pure Shit, was the movie the Australian Film Commission took to Cannes the following year.

“The Film Commission had given us money to make Pure Shit and when we showed it to them, two thirds of the way through… they simply broke their contract! Never done it before and as far as I know never done it since; [they] just said ‘Sorry, we’re not giving you the money to complete it’,” Deling tells MCV.

“We got the money together to complete [the film], and then we got banned. We got it unbanned – the Film Commission refused to take it to Cannes with all the rest of the crinoline films. All those people were doing their damndest to make sure that this film was never seen by anybody!

“Never underestimate the brutal power of middle class taste, because they just went after us, you know? We were hammered.”

Inspired in equal parts by the French New Wave and by Deling’s desire to respond to the first wave of the heroin epidemic, and the equal dangers of the early methadone program (“Within two years, that [initial] level of methadone was killing people. People were dying of renal failure, which is of course one way to solve the drug problem…”), Pure Shit enlisted real addicts both in front of and behind the camera to present a scathing mix of black comedy and social commentary.

“I thought I was making a drive-in movie with a political message,” says Deling.

Instead, he created a masterpiece.

Film critic and former Sydney Film Festival director Paul Byrnes describes Pure Shit as “an assault on the structures of society as well as its forms of expression. The film is a scabrous comedy, made roughly and on a tiny budget, but with extraordinary energy and commitment.”

Featuring performances by the then-unknown Helen Garner, Max Gillies and Greg Pickhaver (H. G. Nelson), it’s an often hilarious tale about desperate junkies in search of a fix, set in and around the streets of Carlton, then home to a vibrant artistic community centred around The Pram Factory and the Melbourne University Film Society.

“At that time there were some filmmakers starting to come out of Czechoslovakia and places like that,” says Deling, “and we used to say, ‘Isn’t it amazing how these guys can make films with a buried message with that sort of government control?’ Well, we have government control over our film industry, but no one seems to even know about it, you know?”

Such control, through the established funding system, results in a state-sanctioned form of culture which Deling has little time for.

“There are people in the Film Commission who’ve been doing this job for ten years and they’ve never made a film that’s covered its costs. Now, what the fuck is going on? Why hasn’t somebody put the spotlight on these buggers, you know? Asked them to justify their existence?”

It’s a question no-one will ever need to ask of Bert Deling.

Pure Shit is out now through Beyond Home Entertainment.

This interview first appeared in MCV on Thursday May 28.

You got to give them hope...

The inspiring words of the late, great Harvey Milk...

Coming Out of the Bat Closet

At some stage in the next few days I'll hopefully find time to blog about the last three productions I've seen over the last week: Bell Shakespeare's Hamlet, Matthew Bourne's 'dance-ical' Edward Scissorhands, and Yana Alana and the Paranas in Bite Me Harder.

Today though, my brain in mush, so instead, I'm going to point you towards a fascinating essay on Batman's gay past.

A Batman who continued to live in 1945 was an economic liability in 1955. He was a threat to the family and to the bottom-line. Batman's "gayness," then, was a flash point for a larger set of social anxieties. Just as elites worked aggressively to purge society and government of homosexuality, so too did DC purge Batman of any social deficiency which could be interpreted or construed as "gay."

Was it enough? To satisfy the most vocal critics, yes. But, ironically, the move to surrealism and fantasy also pushed Batman into the territory of high camp, in which Batman's ostensibly heterosexual romances were suspiciously unbelievable.

Enjoy!

Review: CATALPA

This one man show, written by Irish playwright Donal O'Kelly and performed by Cork-born Melburnian Des Fleming, is a cinematically-structured exploration of a remarkable historical event: the rescue of six Fenian prisoners from an English prison in Fremantle, WA, in 1876.

The six men, soldiers in the English occupying forces, had been convicted of treason for their involvment with the pro-independence Irish Republican Brotherhood, and transported to Australia. Over the next ten years, the plan to spring them from the penal colony, on board the whaling ship Catalpa, captained by George Anthony, was engineered.

The play opens with Fleming playing a struggling screenplay writer who has just fumbled an all-important meeting with a group of producers. In frustration, he presents the pitch he should have made: talking through and acting out the settings, scenes and characters of his screenplay-within-a-play about the rescue by the Catalpa.

From describing wideshots to sudden cuts; from a seabird circling above New Bedford, Massachusetts to Captain Anthony's lonely wife, and the morally upright captain himself; Fleming plays every character, even, at one point, a whale. It's a demanding performance, and Fleming rises well to the occasion; assisted throughout by the simple set design, striking lighting by Bronwyn Pringle, and a live score by Wally Gunn incorporating loops and samples, a record player, and a piano at which Gunn is seated throughout the performance.

While Fleming doesn't quite convince in every role, lacking the subtle emotional shading that the play at times requires, his performance throughout is a sterling one; while the script is never less than engaging: lyrical, poetic and imaginative. O'Kelly's writing successfully plays on both cinematic convention (such as a storm in whose clouds are seen the vengeful face of Captain Anthony's mother-in-law, at whose death-bed he swore never again to set out to sea) and the narrative freedom of the theatre. The complexity and intelligence of the script can be seen in its use of peripheral characters, such as a French maid in Fremantle, who seems incidental and almost unnecessary when first introduced, but who is later shown to play a valuable role in the dramatic denoument post the prisoners' liberation.

A complex, well-structured and fascinating play about a remarkable voyage and the equally remarkable people who participated in it; strongly performed and definitely recommended.

Catalpa
At the Brunswick Mechanics Institute Performing Arts Centre
Corner Sydney and Glenlyon Roads, Brunswick
Until May 18

Good times on Gertrude Street

Friday evening saw me dropping in at RRR for a quick drink with Kim Jurick, who's stepping down from the Music Coordinator's position he's held for a year; and receiving the excellent news that the station would like me to host its annual Intrepid Travel trip later this year. It was a huge surprise and an honour to be asked, and also a much-needed morale booster given that I've had the week from hell at work this week.

The country we'll be visiting has yet to be determined, with Egypt, Morocco and Cuba all possible at this stage, as I undestand it. Budgeting and availability of flights and etc will whittle that list down to one country, but any of them would suit me! Any recommendations from you blog readers, please? Which of the three would you visit if you had the chance?

Thereafter I headed back to Fitzroy for the opening night of Ilbijerri Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander Theatre Collective's The Dirty Mile. This interactive theatrical experience is a historical walking tour of Fitzroy, and marvellously entertaining. As you wend through laneways and back streets, you encounter actors portraying both everyday events and remarkable people from Fitzroy's pre-settlement Woiwurrung origins through to the major cultural landmarks of the 20th century. It was a fantastic night's entertainment, and highly recommended.

Yesterday I also had a fine time on Gertrude Street in the company of some old friends at Añada, a new Tapas bar that's just opened around the corner from my flat at 197 Gertrude Street Fitzroy. Excellent wine paired with very more-ish (and in some cases Moorish) food and good conversation. I'll definitely be going back to work my way through the menu!

Afterwards I came home and started watching the new season of Torchwood. I've already seen the first two episodes, but watched them again anyway, to remind myself of what has come before, and then launched into newer episodes with gusto (and a bottle of wine). Definitely a stronger series than the first season: characters are more fleshed out, interactions between the members of the team are spicier and sharper. And Ianto, my favourite character, remains as dapper and charming as ever.

For once I actually feel like I've had a weekend. Now I have to get some work down: housework, laundry, a grant application, read a stack of job applications for a position at Fringe, check with some referees, have a CD listening section, plan my show for Thursday and much, much more. With luck, I might even be able to fit in a film or two, or even a visit to the museum, but maybe that's being ambitious...

Sorry - and here's why

This post was originally written as a response to a comment made on my blog yesterday, but after this morning, and the pride and joy and sorrow I felt at Federation Square, gathered with so many people and listening to the Prime Minister's apology, I thought it deserved a post of its own.

Anonymous said...

Loved the symbolism of the opening of parliament and really pleased that this will occur from now on.

On the other hand i just don't see why the government should apologise for past matters that i or most Australians today are just not responsible for.

Will the current intervention in the NT - will we be asked in years to come for an apology, i sure hope not.. The dispaire that many aboriginal kids face in those communities has got to stop.

I am sorry but i can't feel a sence of guilt for something i was not responsible for.

Ant

12/2/08 20:27

richardwatts said...

Ant - for me, it's not about 'a sense of guilt for something I was not responsible for'. It's about recognising the pain that others have suffered - in the same way we say 'sorry' to a friend who has lost a loved one. In this case however, it's the pain of several generations of people who were wrenched away, without consent in the majority of cases, from their families - invariably not because of the conditions in which they lived, but because of their race.

I also think that it's appropriate that the Government apologise for its past actions, because those actions were deliberate: the stealing away of half-caste children while the 'darker' children were left with their parents.

It was a deliberate attempt to 'breed aboriginality' out of existence.

To quote A.O. Neville, WA's 'Chief Protector of Aborigines' from a 1937 conference of Aboriginal Administators:

"Are we going to have a population of one million blacks in the Commonwealth or are we going to merge them into our white community and eventually forget that there were any Aborigines in Australia?"

Saying sorry for the forcible removal of Indigenous children from their parents, who were stolen from their families for the specified purpose of ensuring the eventual destruction of the very concept of Aboriginality, seems only fair and just to me - not to mention long overdue, given that the 'Bringing Them Home' report into the stolen generations was released in April 1997.

The full text of the Prime Minister's apology to the Stolen Generations

Today we honour the Indigenous peoples of this land, the oldest continuing cultures in human history.

We reflect on their past mistreatment.

We reflect in particular on the mistreatment of those who were stolen generations - this blemished chapter in our nation's history.

The time has now come for the nation to turn a new page in Australia's history by righting the wrongs of the past and so moving forward with confidence to the future.

We apologise for the laws and policies of successive Parliaments and governments that have inflicted profound grief, suffering and loss on these our fellow Australians.

We apologise especially for the removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families, their communities and their country.

For the pain, suffering and hurt of these stolen generations, their descendants and for their families left behind, we say sorry.

To the mothers and the fathers, the brothers and the sisters, for the breaking up of families and communities, we say sorry.

And for the indignity and degradation thus inflicted on a proud people and a proud culture, we say sorry.

We the Parliament of Australia respectfully request that this apology be received in the spirit in which it is offered as part of the healing of the nation.

For the future we take heart; resolving that this new page in the history of our great continent can now be written.

We today take this first step by acknowledging the past and laying claim to a future that embraces all Australians.

A future where this Parliament resolves that the injustices of the past must never, never happen again.

A future where we harness the determination of all Australians, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, to close the gap that lies between us in life expectancy, educational achievement and economic opportunity.

A future where we embrace the possibility of new solutions to enduring problems where old approaches have failed.

A future based on mutual respect, mutual resolve and mutual responsibility.

A future where all Australians, whatever their origins, are truly equal partners, with equal opportunities and with an equal stake in shaping the next chapter in the history of this great country, Australia.

Well done, KRudd. You didn't fuck it up. Aww, I think I'm gonna start crying again.

Cool things to do on a hot, hot day

While today isn't quite the scorcher it was on Saturday, it's still getting uncomfortably warm; too warm for my liking. Anything above about 26-27 degrees is too warm for me, and while I no longer suffer nosebreeds and dizzy spells once the temperature climbs above 30 degrees, as I did as a child, I'm still definitely a cold weather kind of guy. Which is why I favour finding ways to escape the summer heat that are simultaneously rewarding, culturally and personally, as well as offer lower temperatures than can be found outside, on the baking streets of Melbourne.

Yesterday, my tempature-control plans saw me fleeing to the comforts of the cinema, at least initially.

One of the good things about living in Fitzroy is that the city is so close. At 10:15am, on the spur of the moment, I decided to catch the 10:30am session of The Golden Compass at the Melbourne Central Cinemas (comfortable seats, air conditioned, great sound system and - at such an early session - an almost total absence of screaming children to distract me from the story unfolding on the screen).

Now, had the film actually started at 10:30 I would never have made it in time; but knowing that there would be at least 20-30 minutes of ads and trailers before the film started gave me more than enough time to get out of the house and to the cinema on time.

The reviews for The Golden Compass (which is based on the novel Northern Lights by English fantasist Philip Pullman, the first in the His Dark Materials trilogy) haven't been great, with suggestions the story felt rushed, was too complex and confusing for its audience, etc. Having not read the book on which it is based, I thus went into the cinema in an ambivilent state, and came out enraptured.

With its feisty heroine, Lyra Belacqua (a wonderful performance by newcomer Dakota Blue Edwards despite her all-over-the-shop accent); a stellar cast including Daniel Craig as Lyra's uncle, the scholar-explorer Lord Asriel, the usually annoying but here convincingly cold and manipulative Nicole Kidman as the villainous Mrs Coulter (memorably described in a Guardian review as "an arresting mixture of Darth Vader and Veronica Lake"), and Sir Ian McKellen voicing the war bear Iorek Byrnison; and assured direction by Chris Weitz, who also wrote the screenplay, The Golden Compass is a thoroughly entertaining romp.

Without going into detail about the plot (which concerns, at its heart, a struggle over the choice between freedom and control of the human soul between free-thinkers and the Magisterium, a thinly-veiled portrait of the Church) the film is by turns enthralling in its detail, breathtaking in its scope, and inspiring in the message it subtly conveys.

The special effects-heavy production never gets in the way of the essential humanity (or lack thereof) of its characters, which include witches, sea-gypsies, child abductors, aeronauts and talking polar bears. While the film is not without its flaws (Lyra seems remarkably unsupervised for someone half the world is searching for, and constantly wanders off on her own despite the malevolent forces that are gathered against her; and the breakneck pace of the film certainly borders on the rushed) its skillful blend of story and spectacle, its rebellious heroine, and its essestial heart ensure that The Golden Compass is the best fantasy film to hit the screen since the conclusion of The Lord of the Rings, with significantly reduced machismo. Certainly it's a vast improvement on the blandness of Eragon and the by-the-numbers The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

Highly recommended for children of all ages.

Thereafter, having had a brief lunch at a Vietnamese noodle bar, I ventured into the coolth of the State Library, and spent a happy hour or two perusing two of three permanent collections on display (the contents of which regularly cycle through the library's holdings, and so will not be the same in six months as they were yesterday).

Mirror of the World is an exhibition about books and their impact on civilisation, from the earliest form of the written word through to pulp fiction, graphic novels and contemporary literature. Whether exploring the 'religions of the book' (Islam, Christianity and Judaism, which each have a holy book at the core of their teachings) or the impact the publication of titles such as Darwin's The Origin of the Species and Mao's Little Red Book have had upon the world; this is a pretty cool exhibition for anyone with literary leanings. The exhibition is also situated in a gallery that runs around the library's great domed reading room, providing a perspective of the space I'd never experienced before.

Up another flight of stairs from Mirror of the World is another exhibition, The Changing Face of Victoria, which explores the evolution of Victoria's population, from pre-settlement to post-war migration, and much more. Here you'll find such treasures as Ned Kelly's armour and the Jerrilderie Letter, dictated by Kelly to his right-hand man, the opium-smoking Joe Byrne; the surveyor's chain with which Robert Hoddle mapped out Melbourne's grid; and paintings and photographs revealing all aspects of Victoria's cultural life and history. Given my own personal interest in the history of this city I call home, I found this exhibition enthralling. Perhaps you will too?

Love. True love.

No, this is not a post about the fact that, according to my horoscope today, my love life is about to drastically improve with Venus moving into Cancer today.

It's about something I saw yesterday: the launch of the City of Yarra's Relationships Register. Following a brief commitment ceremony, Jeff Chiang and Rodney Cruise (accompanied by their baby son Ethan) became the first couple to sign the register, and in doing so helped make history.

“You are my best friend, my lover, and the father of my son Ethan,” each said to the other in turn, before a celebrant, family and friends. “I now proudly take your hand as you have taken my heart.”

It brought tears to my eyes, I can happily say. Ain't love grand?

Midsumma at La Mama

As I stepped inside Carlton’s iconic La Mama for the first time this year on Saturday, I was struck by the realisation that the small, two storey building is the theatrical equivalent of Doctor Who’s TARDIS. It is bigger on the inside than the outside (entire worlds have been staged within its walls) and it is, in a very real sense, a time machine, which on the weekend transported myself and my companion for the evening back to the halcyon days of England in the years before (and after) the First World War.

The Object of Desire, a biography of the charismatic bisexual Scottish artist Duncan Grant (shown in a 1926 self-portrait, above right) is presented by Fly on the Wall Theatre as part of this year’s Midsumma Festival. Written by the prolific Julia Britton, and directed with aplomb by Robert Chuter, it features a relatively large cast for a La Mama production, and a memorable set by Anthony Breslin (based on elements of Grant’s country house, Charleston, if I’m not very much mistaken) that successfully evokes the painter’s cluttered studio and the lingering influence of the Victorian era. Danny Pettingil's lighting design is also noteworthy, especially when required to pick out specific actors in swift succession.

Duncan Grant and his bohemian coterie of friends and lovers, the Bloomsbury Group, gained notoriety in their day by rebelling socially and artistically against the social mores and strictures of Victorianism. They are now renowned for their creative innovations in art and literature, although their complex, inter-connected relationships are equally memorable.

Once described as ‘a circle of friends who lived in squares and loved in triangles,’ the emotional and sexual lives of the Bloomsbury Group and Grant in particular, fuel the dramatic engine of Britton’s play. Its opening scene, set in 1961, depicts the artist in mourning for Vanessa Bell (Fabienne Parr) and haunted by memories of lovers past, who swiftly spring to vivid life as the play unfolds.

The cast of 11 act as a Greek Chorus, commenting on Grant’s peccadilloes and grand passions as they unfold, and in most cases playing multiple roles. Jonathan Dyer, for instance, robustly embodies Grant’s father and uncle, as well as his lover, the economist John Maynard Keynes.

All the actors remain on stage throughout the play, and perform splendidly in such intimate and challenging circumstances, especially David Kambouris, whose depiction of another of Grant's numerous lovers, author David ‘Bunny’ Garnett, makes the character’s naïve appeal believable and charming. Phil Roberts gives us an arch yet forgiving Lytton Strachey, Grant’s cousin and lover, while Robynne Kelly is a poised and intense Virginia Woolf.

Gerry Sont as Duncan Grant (pictured left, in an undated portrait) faces perhaps the greatest challenge, having the most lines of the play, and being required to depict the artist from the ages of 15 through to 76, but does so in a way that captures the artist’s charm, unfettered sexuality, and joie de vie.

Although occasionally verbose, Britton’s script perfectly and accurately captures this complex cast of characters, and Chuter’s direction maintains a swift pace, so the play’s 110 minutes never drag. The cast seem occasionally constrained amidst the cluttered set and the intimate confines of La Mama, but such quibbles aside, The Object of Desire is a definite highlight of the Midsumma program.

Around the corner from La Mama, at the Carlton Courthouse Theatre, is another Midsumma performance, The Two Frocks in Domestic Deluxe. Although significantly less substantial than The Object of Desire, it is also highly entertaining, although admittedly in need of a slightly stronger script.

Created and performed by Gabrielle Griffin and Emma Newman, and directed by Kelly Parry, this one-hour show is set within the confines of 1950’s domesticity, and is nominally about the clash between the romantic clichés perpetrated by Hollywood, and the reality of love.

The search for Mr Right, and an underlying, unspoken (but at one stage achingly conveyed) lesbian passion, provides an excuse for the Two Frocks to do what they do best, which is clowning and puppetry. A small audience on the night I attended the show possibly explained why the first 10 minutes of the show lacked energy, but once Newman began her cooking segment, Domestic Deluxe took off. From 1950’s advertisements to martial arts films, and even King Kong, this charming show hits so notes, that it’s impossible not to like.

The Object of Desire @ La Mama, 205 Faraday Street, Carlton until Sunday February 11.
The Two Frocks in Domestic Deluxe @ Carlton Courthouse, 349 Drummon St Carlton until Saturday February 3.

Review: The Story of the Kelly Gang

The Australian Centre for the Moving Image (ACMI) hosted the Victorian premiere of the newly-restored 1906 film The Story of the Kelly Gang on Thursday night, with a crowd of screen culture luminaries (and at least one freeloading blogger) in attendance.

Introducing the night, ACMI director Tony Sweeney commented that while some people might think an evening at the tennis was the best way to kick off the Australia Day long weekend, for him, watching a classic Australian film such as that we were about to view struck him as eminently more appropriate.

I found myself nodding in agreement, because The Story of the Kelly Gang is more than just a landmark Australian film. Directed by theatre entrepreneur Charles Tait, it is widely regarded as the world’s first feature-length narrative film.

As recently as the 1970s The Story of the Kelly Gang was thought lost forever, but in recent years, scraps and fragments of the film have gradually emerged, including footage found on a Melbourne rubbish tip in 1980. More recently, almost an entire reel’s worth of footage, depicting the Kelly Gang's activities prior to the robbery of the Euroa bank, was discovered in 2006 in the offices of the National Film and Television Archive in the UK.

These surviving 17 minutes of the film, having been carefully restored to the point where they can now be screened, provide a fragmentary view of the film, from its opening scenes at the Kelly homestead through to the tragic climax at Glenrowan.

Originally an hour long when it premiered in Melbourne on Boxing Day 1906, the version screened tonight provides a more than adequate impression of what the full-length feature would have been like, despite nitrate-warping and missing scenes. Still, unless you’re prepared to wait around another 65 years to see the completed version of the film, as Paolo Cherchi Usai, the Director of the National Film and Sound Archive joked in his opening remarks, it’s probably the best version of The Story of the Kelly Gang we’re going to see for a while.

So what's it like?

As you'd expect, being a silent film the actors significantly over-emote (partially because the original film was shown without intertitles; naration was provided by an onstage lecturer who also acted as a foley artist, adding live sound effects such as gunshots and hoofbeats). The theatrical background of the director Charles Tait, coupled with the conventions of the day, ensure that the camera is primarily static, presenting the unfolding drama as if it were staged, with the majority of scenes displaying all the action in the foreground.

Nonetheless there are early signs of a developing cinematic language, such as a sequence in which a dying man is rescued from the burning Glenrowan Inn by a local priest. Shouldering the injured man, the priest walks straight at the camera, his figure filling the frame in a way that provides an immediate sense of drama, and which would not be out of place in a modern TV program.

Also look out for the scene showing Ned Kelly's last stand. As the actor playing Ned staggers forward, you'll see that the armour he wears is superbly acurate. That's because it really is armour worn by the gang - probably the suit worn by Ned's mate Joe Byrne.

Don't go in expecting to see a perfectly restored film, as there are some almost hallucinatory nitrate ripples which distort many final sequences - and which for me, actually added to the experience of watching the film, rather than destracting for it. Not everyone shared that view at tonight's screening, or course.

Nonetheless, The Story of the Kelly Gang was remarkable to watch. There were moments I felt a real emotional resonance with the events unfolding on the screen, and although the live electronic score by Endorphin was jarring for some, for me it successfully bridged past and present.

The two screenings on Australia Day, Friday 26th January, will feature a live, improvised score by the classically-trained Mauro Colombis, a renowned silent movie pianist.

The Story of the Kelly Gang is screening as part of a range of films at ACMI as part of the Australia Day celebrations: this page will tell you the details of some of the other films that are showing. I'm especially looking forward to a panel about the film and its place in Australia's early screen culture, in which the bushranger film was an important local genre before being banned as subversive in 1912. One of the speakers is academic and old friend Bill Routt, whose comments on the importance of the bushranger film you can read at the excellent website Senses of Cinema.

Look for a DVD of the film, featuring a range of extras including commentaries and both scores, to be released later this year.