Picture

Wake In Fright (1971) – Ted Kotcheff

“The images of a nation, as it manufactures for itself and presents them to the world, will inevitably make themselves felt to a greater or lesser degree, overtly or covertly, in all its cultural artifacts. The most potent of such images through recurrence will gradually accrete the resonance and achieve the quintessence of myth, until eventually the line between myth and reality will be blurred in the national consciousness” (McFarlane). This notion as introduced by McFarlane is an interesting point, particularly when looking at the representation of the bush legend and the manifestation of masculinity in Australian cinema and television. Other concerns that he brings up in discussion are also relevant for this topic: the concept of ‘a man’s country’, mateship, anti-authoritarianism, Australia’s wide, open land, and lastly, competitive instinct.  All these concepts are clearly evident in Ted Kotcheff’s Wake In Fright.

A Man’s Country: the main images ever portrayed about Australia are of males, and white males in particular, which has also been argued as a tool of oppression upon both indigenous groups and females. This is quite apparent in Wake In Fright particularly because the only women represented in the film are Jeanette (who is overtly promiscuous, she does not fit into the typical female stereotypes within Australian cinema) and John’s girlfriend in Sydney (who we only ever see in photos and his fantasies).

Mateship: “The sentimental idea of mateship might well be Australia’s chief contribution to the history of human relationship. Like most images which together constitute a national identity, the image of men as mates derives from that blurred territory between myth and reality” (McFarlane). This is a very interesting quote from McFarlane, insinuating that mateship as concept is significantly Australian, and in Wake In Fright clearly portrays this, in a somewhat perverted and intense way, and that it does not always have to be represented in a sentimental framework.

“No One Tells Us What To Do”: anti-authoritarianism has always been a distinctively Australian characteristic, and is clearly portrayed in most all aspects of Australian film and television, again in Wake In Fright. This concept stems from traditional ideals of being anti-British, anti-European, anti-laws, anti-boss, and anti-rules. McFarlane also provides an interestingly two-folded ideal to this concept as well, which is worth further discussion: “’No one tells us what to do’ can signify admirable resistance to outworn authority structures; it can also signify a mind closed to otherness”.

A Wide, Brown Land: in the representation of the bush in Wake In Fright, we see the landscape take on a terrifying emptiness within the rural town, but also within the characters themselves, who are just living day to day, with no real purpose or substance. Also here I would like to just quote a statement from McFarlane, which I find very intriguing, even though it is based upon the work of Peter Weir: “Weir is interested in the possible horror behind the verandas; for him, the mulberry faces are only pretending to sleep, and the dogs are more likely to be licking up blood”. I feel this can also be somewhat applied to Wake In Fright, most prominently in the tone within the film and the atmosphere it creates.

Competitiveness: there are numerous aspects to Wake In Fright that intensify this notion of competitiveness, most prominently within Australian males, specifically the way John’s life is unravelled from an illegal game of two-up (which the police do not stop), and also through the way the band of men challenge one another in the experience of kangaroo hunting and their drunken escapades following. This is intense viewing, particularly because it becomes a grotesque relationship between the men, where they bait one another, even in their drunken state, to the point of almost bashing each other to death, but all is good the next day, mateship still intact.
Picture
 
Picture
This week’s class presentation got me thinking about the difference between identification and recognition. I feel that some people cannot differentiate between these two concepts quite well enough, particularly in terms of analysing representations of Australia in cinema and television, specifically Baz Luhrmann’s “Come Walkabout” Australian tourist television campaign. My main issue is that people continuously ask questions like ‘what do you think this representation of the outback is intended to do?’, ‘why is it that so much Australian film and television focuses on the outback when the majority of the population are urban dwellers who live along the coast?’ or even ‘how do you, or even can you possibly identify with this representation of Australia as the outback?’. Which has in my experience being met with answers such as ‘its intended to play up to global stereotypes of what people perceive Australia to be like’, or ‘because people think in order to make a story so specifically Australian it has to involve the outback somehow’ and most often ‘I don’t identify with it, I don’t and never have lived in the outback and I think it’s an unfair representation of our country and portrayal of our people. Why can’t we just tell normal Australian stories?!’.

For me personally, I have no problems with the portrayal of the outback as representing our nation. I do not identify with it, but I don’t feel I
need the outback to be part of my identity to be an Australian. What I’m proposing here is that I can recognisethe motivations behind the saturated use of images of the outback in Australian film and television, but whilst it seems to me others tend to be quite bitter about it, it only increases my level of appreciation. I can recognise that the outback is part of Australia the nation, and that it is part of Australia as my country, and therefore I hold no grudges against the idea. Sure I don’t live there, and there is not as many coastal or urban settings utilised in comparison to the outback, but it is severely beautiful and terrifying at the same time, relatively easy to market and is a major draw card for tourists to come here. I have the ability to accept that it is not part of my identity but I appreciate the role it plays on both national and international scales. And I also particularly like the “Come Walkabout” tourist campaign, although it does play up this characteristically cliché drawcard to Australia, as well as some Aboriginal stereotypes being channelled through the role of the indigenous boy, it is tastefully done and does play up one’s spiritual side, not to mention that Brandon Walters is a beautiful young boy. 
Picture
 
Picture
Mad Max (1979) – George Miller
Having not seen Mad Max before, there were quite a few aspects of the film that somewhat took me by surprise and that I find immensely significant, and I think are here worth mentioning.

1)      The costume design: the costume design in Mad Max is incredible, giving visual manifestation to both the characters personalities and positions within society. The costumes create a great comparison between Max and the rest of the highway patrol style police force, and the bikie gang. The gang tend to be severely dishevelled with ripped and torn clothing, crazy hair to match their crazy antics, including pieces of fur, which the audience could assume with some level of assurance came as a result of their wreaking havoc. It also plays an integral part in the transformation of Max throughout the duration of the film, whilst still in a mainly all leather outfit, it changes evidently to suit his position and motivations in life, his transforming attitude.

2)      The level of violence:

a)      The scene where Jess and child get run down on the highway – I think the main thing that struck me about this scene was that the violence was not overtly shown on screen, but in a more indirect way, leaving the actual climax of the scene to the imagination, without leaving any question about what did happen, just the way one visualises it. Meaghan suggests this too, stating how some scenes within Mad Max function “more by suggestion than showing, our imagination excessively completes the scene” (pg 241).

b)      The scene at the beginning where the gang invade the town then destroy the young couple and their car – particularly because it is so early within the film, and there is no real preparation of the audience for the violence at hand. The main thing that affected me was that it seemed so unprovoked and graphic, but was important in reflecting the representation of the bikie gang, and the destruction they can cause, not necessarily if need be, but when they feel inclined. This notion can be interpreted as just as terrifying as the physical violence itself.

3)      The way in which Max can’t escape that the road is the only home he has left: this can be looked at within the discourse of road films, where the search for the ultimate solution is home, where although the journey is essential to the narratives; its purpose is to inevitably end up somewhere. In this context, Mad Max then portrays a story where Max has nowhere to turn to, nowhere to be himself and find comfort, except the road. This is because his wife and child are brutally murdered, so therefore coming back to the physical home lifestyle he had before is not quite a real option, and he can’t bear the reality of it. His other option, the workplace, has also being jeopardised by the bikie gang, after killing his best mate, colleague and companion, he both realises staying there will just lead the gang straight to him, and he is motivated to take a break in fear of being targeted. He also has the ability to identify that there is not much differentiating them from the gang on the road except the badge and title they hold. With the two main parts of his life exhausted, work and home, where else could Max really go? The road has always being a part of him, and now with enough motivation to justify enacting revenge, he takes to the road, which in the end, really becomes him. 
Picture