Saturday 9 May 2015

Out Standing in his Field


Still not about art (there may be something later today. Depends how the flu makes me feel. Yes, my cold has become flu. Lovely). Instead, the pressing issue of pseudonyms.

We are all warned about the dangers of the internet and particularly about the dangers of the internet with regard to our children. The problem as a parent is that parents LOVE to talk about their kids, and love to show them off, because we LOVE our kids and they are a big part of our lives. Plus, my children inform my art production, not just in terms of time and access (I think that's hamper rather than inform) but also sometimes what I produce and how, ideas, inspiration, blunt blunt criticism (brutal may be a better word, but gosh it is so useful). And then there are the things they get up to, and say, and introduce me to.

My daughter loves Deviant Art and uses it to interact with her friends (it's a web forum for the arts, don't panic), and sends me links to really interesting things I probably wouldn't see otherwise (I send her links to Colossal articles in return, so it is a two-way street).

So they pop up from time to time, here and on Facebook and wherever.

I don't post photos of them (or if I do they are heavily restricted). I thought about should I post drawings of them and decided that yes, I'm okay with that. I don't reveal their names. You can call me paranoid if you want, but these are my choices regarding my children, so suck it up.

So I use pseudonyms for my children (and for my spouse, but that's just continuity). My daughter was easy. The Steamgoth fits her perfectly, it is apt and precise, and she rather likes it (which is a miracle). My son was much more difficult. He has been The Son for some time because I couldn't think of anything else. The Pokemonster? What if he finally grows out of that obsession? (I live in hope, vain though that feels) The Early Riser went out the window when he started to sleep in (ie, still asleep at 6.45 when I wake him for school).

But we have hit upon it. Actually, the Spouse hit upon it.

The White Sheep.

I have always encouraged my children to be themselves, to not worry about other people's opinions on how they dress, what they like, what they do (within reason. Manners are important, as are being polite and respectful). We are a family of strongly opinionated people, with well-formed ideas and notions. Three of us dress in black. The Spouse is and always will be a goth, with coffin rings and pentagrams and Mick Mercer's radio show constantly playing on his ipad. The Steamgoth is a steampunk goth, or a goth steampunk. I'm not sure which. I was a goth, but I want to go full-on steampunk. I'll get there.

In the midst is my boy, who fits us with a lot of things, like music and reading and film and tv tastes (Pokemon aside). We love science fiction and fantasy and science and art (we are all nerdy, go us), but he has his own dress sense. Not for him black or brown or gears or crosses (to use blatant stereotypes). Track pants, camouflage gear, pop culture t-shirts. He wants to be comfortable above all else and he likes colours, bless him. And he does it. Which is a bit mainstream. And makes me very proud. He stands against us all and is his own self.

So, given that we are a family of eccentric black sheep (I don't know what my siblings think of us) and he likes "normal" clothes, the White Sheep seems an obvious choice.

I explained what Black Sheep meant and how I am using White Sheep, and he is actually quite pleased with it. After all, this is the boy who chose the Abney Park dog tag "Expendable Crew" because he thought it would be a hoot. I was pretty sure I was on firm ground with this.

Although I have put down one restriction on his clothing choices. He may not EVER wear sandals with track pants. There has to be a limit, if only for the sake of sartorial decency. Some rules are there for a good reason. Look mainstream casual by all means, but look good while doing it.

Friday 8 May 2015

Children and Animals: Mad Max 3 Beyond Thunderdome


So here we are at the third, and easily the best, Mad Max film. It's cheesy and odd, and a triumph of modern cinema compared to its two predecessors. It has an extensive story line with well thought out themes, a fun cast, big stunts (although none of them quite come up to the tanker chase of Mad Max 2), reasonable music score and a satisfying end.

It also has, to its detriment, more ridiculous costumes and a saxophonist.

The film doesn't start with a car chase. Petrol is gone. There has actually been an apocalypse of a nuclear nature over the fuel shortage, so alternative means of propulsion have to be sought. For Max that now means camels. A chase involving a plane, some camels and a man on foot doesn't have quite the same possibilities as cars and motor bikes, even in the middle of nowhere.

And this film is shot in the real middle of nowhere. The mid north area of South Australia, around Cooper Pedy. It is arid, without even the scrubby vegetation of Broken Hill (the Tribe;s gorge is in the Blue Mountains, but needs must). It's hot and dry and far from anywhere. People really do die out there. Max needs his camels.

Which, along with his pet monkey, have been stolen by the Gyrocaptain, Bruce Spence reviving his role, albeit much reduced. He now has a plane (for later story purposes), an actual name (Jedediah) and a child, although his girlfriend/wife seems to have disappeared - no doubt the result of a terrible accident involving her hair and a naked flame (she came from the big haired oil refiners).

In pursuing his camels Max comes across Barter Town, an armpit of a place where trading is the name of the game. Frank Thring presides over registration in the way that only Frank Thring can. He was an insitution in Australian acting circles and for good reason. Granted he only ever played the one part (there is little difference between The Collector and Pontius Pilate) but he did it so well. He understood how to make menace work and how to properly play understatement, and when to go over the top. Him sitting in the dirt, quietly despairing, when it all goes wrong, is perfect.

Barter Town is the climax of Miller's vision of apocalypse futures. It is dirty and gritty and decrepit. There is nothing shiny or clean. Everything is make-do and cobbled together. There is nothing new, nothing untarnished. No one wears white, at least nothing that has remained white. Greys and browns are the order of the day, along with lots and lots of black leather. And studs. If Barter Town has a uniform it definitely has leather and studs involved. Dust covers everything.

As has been pointed out in an article in the Guardian, this is in marked contrast to other post-Apocalypse visions. I was thinking about Logan's Run (both the film and TV series), where the "civilised" lived in a shiny dome and wore white clothes and everything was ordered and those who lived beyond in the wastes were supposed to be decayed but there was never a spec of dust on their garments and their vehicles gleamed. Makeup and hair always immaculate. Even if the idea was grunge the execution was not. Real dirt and obvious decay have always been part of the Mad Max world, right from the beginning (unless you were an oil refiner. Given most standard cleaning products are made from petrochemicals maybe that's justified).

There are two layers to Barter Town, the top part ruled by Aunty and her thugs, the bottom part, Underworld, dominated by Master and Blaster, a dwarf and his own behemoth thug. Underworld is a giant piggery (probably where the actors in the previous two films trained), kept for methane production to power the entire complex, above and below. Not a bad idea. They even refine the methane for motor fuel. Naturally enough, there is a power struggle between Aunty and Master, and naturally enough Max is dragged into it. Max is not as disaffected as he was in Road Warrior, but he's still not fully engaged. I'm not a Mel Gibson fan, but I really liked his performance in Beyond Thunderdome. Balanced, nuanced. Not stellar but solid. I could believe the way he was manipulated and his reactions to the various fates that befell him. Nice.

As to the various thugs, the standout for me was George Spartels as Blackfinger. He drew the short straw in the costume stakes, with a studded leather posing pouch and shiny colander helmet, but it didn't phase him. Play School was always going to be the natural progression from there.

The part of Aunty was played by Tina Turner. I hope she had fun She looks like she had fun. Great casting choice. And her outfit (chain mail with HUGE shoulder pads and high heels) was stunning. Not shiny, but somehow right. Oh, and of course big hair. I remember going to see this film when it first came out (the only one of the three I saw at the cinema. No sex and look-away violence meant a friendlier rating and more general release) and being sceptical of Turner's inclusion (her music is not my thing). And I remember being pleasantly surprised. There are plenty of musicians who have a go at acting, with mixed results. Some you think "please, do not give up the day job. Don't do this again". Tina Turner did a good job. She played it for what it was worth and turned in a believable performance.

And her character has a level of interest, altering her behaviour to suit her needs, and ruling Barter Town with a combination of muscled standover tactics and three-word slogans, getting everyone to chant along with her. Which sounds like the political tactics of the Liberal Party. I suppose Tony Abbott had to get his strategy from somewhere. Pity he has neither Aunty's intellect nor her appeal.

There is another group in this story, the Tribe. This is a group of kids living in a verdant gorge in the middle of the desert (well, in the middle of the Blue Mountains, but anyway...). They annoyed the crap out of me when I saw this as a teenager. I just wanted to ditch the lot of them. Coming to it now, three decades later, I think they are a great inclusion, a really interesting idea that for once is explored. Costume wise, they are clearly friends with the Feral Kid of Road Warrior, or at least shop at the same kangaroo skin outlet.

Grammar aside, the writing for the Tribe is quite something, with the representation of an oral culture that is turning record keeping into mythology. And there is a good but not laboured contrast between the hope and health of the children compared to the adult misery of Barter Town.

Max ends up being stumbled upon by these children. His presence as an adult brings on a crisis that splits the formerly cohesive unit into two, with half staying in the little paradise continuing to wait and the other half striking out across the desert in search of "Tomorrowmorrowland". While initially appearing to be a foolish move, this proves an important turning point in the story and gives Max a chance to become a person again rather than an aimless wanderer. Through their action he will find his way out of his own private wasteland.

The film's big stunt sequence is the train chase. It's impressive, but not as good as the tanker chase of Road Warrior, probably because a lot of it feels the same. It also has more comic elements, such as Scrooloose driving the truck while upside down, and Angry Andersen avoiding obstacles while hanging from a pipe on the train. There are no brutal deaths so we are spared the bulging-eyed corpses. And Max gets his moment, when he chooses to sacrifice himself in order to let the others fly to safety. He becomes the hero by choice, not by default or out of a sense of anger or revenge, as he did in The Road Warrior.

The last part of the film is strangely moving, at least for me. Entering a giant dust cloud (wave goodbye to more topsoil, Australia), they fly to the ruins of Sydney, the remains of the Harbour Bridge reaching over a dried seabed. It was gratifying to see the Opera House still standing (go, Jorn Utzon), and weird to recognise other buildings - Australia Square, the AMP Building, Chifley Square and so on. We are so used to seeing other parts of the world on the screen that it is always a little odd to be presented with places we know, even if they are crumbling ruins.

This grim reality of a world destroyed is lifted by the reactions of the children, with another fine bit of writing (grammar aside. Why the bad grammar?). And once more Max wanders off, although this time there feels like there is a purpose to it.

Mad Max 3: Beyond Thunderdome is a cheesey film, it does have quite a bit of silliness, and if I am going to watch something in this type of setting I'll go for Salute of the Jugger first, thanks (don't tell me this too is cheesey. I know. But it has Rutger Hauer, and dog skulls). But I do acknowledge that Salute of the Jugger probably would not have been possible without the Max films. They have been quite the influence on many film-makers. And Thunderdome has some depths, and interesting explorations of the notions of home and heroes and family.

I really did enjoy Beyond Thunderdome, although that could be because I had sat through the other two and this came as something of a relief. Would I like it as much if I caught it on its own? I don't know, but I am actually looking forward to watching this one with the Steamgoth and her father. I'll see what they think.

And sorry, no, I couldn't resist putting this clip here. Suck it up.


The Only Way Is Up: Mad Max 2 The Road Warrior

It was with no trepidation at all that I put the next disc in the player, There was just no way that Mad Max 2 could be as bad as Mad Max. And I was right. I LOVED this film - for the simple reason that the narration totally negates ANY need to watch Mad Max. In the first two minutes you get all the salient points (there weren't many) and then more story than number 1 could have dreamt of. No one need ever watch Mad Max ever again. Ever. Again.

And then it's business as usual with a car chase, crashes and mayhem. So it goes.

Don't get attached to the puppy

There was clearly more money spent on this film (the budget was $4 million, rather than $350 000). They hired more real actors for starters, and had actual sets and costumes, and hair dressers. Lots and lots of hair dressers. They also spent more time on the story, as in there are probably three lines of plot, rather than a mere loose description. And stunt men. How much of that $4 million was spent on stunt men, stunt choreographers and vehicles?

As was pointed out in my review of Mad Max 1 (you can read it here) this was all before CGI. All the stunts were real. They had to actually be done by real people and real vehicles. This includes the rolling of Max's V8 Interceptor, the chase and rolling of the tanker and, of course, the motorcycle rider hitting the buggy and hurtling 20 metres through the air. Why are we at all impressed by action films these days? They can't compare.

Road Warrior has some of the problems of the first film. The bad guys still seem to come from the piggery school of acting, or an amateur dramatic society led by a mad declaimer. And the writing, though much improved, is still clunky, But the musical score is better and everyone seems to be making a genuine effort. And the stunts are spectacular.

Miller has learnt about pacing. The film is 96 minutes long but unlike the first it feels shorter than its time. The action drives the story (one could say it is a lot of the story) and the violence, while still graphic, is not constant. There is a building to the climax of the tanker chase (the actual sequence is well enough planned that it doesn't feel 13 minutes long) and then the film comes to a suitable end. As in it really finishes. Same ending, Max disappearing, but this time it feels complete.

There's also better direction of the actors. Instead of being expressionless and vacant, Mel Gibson is now allowed to act broken and distant. Not a lot of difference, but enough. There is at least the sense that he is doing something, that there are undercurrents even if we can't see them.

Bruce Spence gives Steve Bisley a run for his money as stand out character actor. He imbues the Gyrocaptain with great verve, brings him to life. What the captain lacks in depth he makes up for in dogged persistence and cheerfulness. Here is a man who makes the most of what life throws at him, even though the sheer awfulness of it all sometimes gives him pause. From the captain to the Mouth of Sauron Spence's delight in his craft remains unchanged. He always gives it his best.

The setting has become more conventionally post-apocalyptic, which is understandable, but kind of a shame. Still, entropy and all that. Society has collapsed and those left fight viciously amongst themselves, mainly for remaining oil supplies. The only law is that which you can enforce yourself. The strong survive, the weak die. In "the Wasteland" where the film takes place this is especially true, and Miller makes sure we know it. More bulging-eyed corpses. He can't be accused of subtlety.

Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior was shot out around Broken Hill and Silverton, in outback New South Wales. I have been to these places. There is a weird beauty about them, but I couldn't stand to live there. I'd be terminally depressed within days. The heat and dust alone are enough to do me in. But the sky is huge, the landscape vast and the sunrises and sunsets spectacular. If you want somewhere that looks like the world has ended and makes humans insignificant, it's a great location.

The action in the Wasteland centres around a seige of an oil processing compound by a group of crazed leatherclad mohawked loons lead by a masked man known as The Humungous. He wears a studded leather posing pouch and some leather straps and not much else. As the Steamgoth said, "they're in the desert. How does he not have some kind of skin cancer?" The other side, those in the compound, are equally bizarrely dressed. All in creams and beige (refining oil is such a clean job), with big 80s shoulder pads and big 80s hair. Some wear cricket pads and gloves (well, it is Australia). Then there is the Feral Kid, in kangaroo skins with a metal boomerang.

Of course we work in an oil refinery. Can't you tell?

It was interesting watching the desert shift in colour from red to green. It was nice that they had a rain sequence in there to explain it. Everything blooms very quickly when the rain comes, and vanishes almost as fast. But I am glad that they shot the last sequence with the green still there. There is something reassuring about it. No matter how stupid people become, the earth continues to do its thing, completely ignoring us and our petty squabbles. Everyone's actions are meaningless.

Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior is not a great film. But it is not terrible. And it is not boring. The narration at beginning and end works really well, and is some genuinely lovely writing, the art of storytelling beautifully delivered. Max's reluctance to be a help, let alone a hero, is a nice antidote to the typical action character. However, I can't help feeling there is an uncomfortable homophobic undertone to parts of the film, although I could be reading too much into it. It's difficult to say. But on the whole, it is much  much better than Mad Max.

Mind you, that's not difficult.

If you can stand it, Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome is reviewed here.


Thursday 7 May 2015

Committing Cultural Suicide (aka I Hate Mad Max)

Not a post about art, but a post about a consequence of not producing art. I have actually been doing things, but it's been paid commission work (which is great, but not stuff I can share - other people's family trees and the like). And then there was the storm, which saw the kids home for an extra week of holidays (like they complained). And then everyone seemed to walking around coughing and spluttering. So guess what? My suppressed immune system did its usual trick of not protecting me and I have a cold.

At least I hope that's all it is. You know the sort of thing - face feels like it's going to explode from sinus pressure. Head full of cotton wool. Non-productive cough. And so, so tired. Sleeping two or three hours in the day and STILL sleeping right through the night. Given I am generally an insomniac, this is a little weird.

I seem to be over the worst of it, but the last few days have had to be written off in terms of actually achieving anything (other than the usual things a mother has to do, like get the kids to and from school, make lunches, make dinner, do housework, moan like a demented zombie and so on).

To be quite honest, I spent two days collapsed on the lounge (when I wasn't doing all the mother stuff) watching Blu-Rays. The Mad Max Collection, to be precise. So you are getting three film reviews. Stop reading now if you want. I won't be offended.

We went to the cinema for Avengers 2: the Age of Ultron (such fun, despite some silliness). There was a big ad for Mad Max: Fury Road, which the Steamgoth expressed a strong desire to see. Her dad and I talked about it and we felt that some idea of what Mad Max is might be in order before she sees Fury Road (she told me TWICE that Robert Brown has given it good reviews, so she has to see it). Up the escalators to JB and there was a boxed set of all three films on sale. With an R rating. Oops.

The deal was I would watch them first, decide if and what she could watch and then we'd talk about it again. We made the mistake a couple of weeks ago of watching Hardware with her because we thought we remembered what it was like. Um, no. So now when we talk about films and series she asks "more inappropriate than Hardware?" My dear, just because that horse has bolted doesn't mean the gate stays open.

Finding time when I have the leisure to watch films without children around or other things happening isn't straightforward. Nice to know there is a use for the common cold after all.

So the other morning, after taking the kids to school and sleeping for two hours, I put on Mad Max. Now before you start, I mean MAD MAX. As in NUMBER ONE. As in NOT the Road Warrior. Mad Max was made in 1979 on a shoe string budget and filmed in and around Melbourne, Victoria.

Mel Gibson struggles to remember a line while Steve Bisley worries about his career

I had never seen it before. And I never want to see it again.

I know why it was rated R. But really, if I am to be honest, it should have been rated B (for Boring) or D (for Dull), or most probably ID (for Inexorably Dull). The Steamgoth, when she got home from school and found out how I had spent my day, asked if she could watch it. I told her no on the grounds that it is not worth the time or effort. Her time could be better spent watching grass grow, or staring at the wall, or sitting with her eyes shut.

What was wrong with it? Where do I start? The violence is gratuitous and nonsensical, the script risible, the acting laughable and the musical score irritating and domineering. Was there a plot? Beyond "a highway patrolman encounters bikie gangs. His family is murdered, he goes on a revenge rampage"? By the way, those last two take up the final ten minutes of the film. And no, I don't think they are spoilers because they are so telegraphed as to visible from the moon. Did I say there was a real pacing problem?

Don't get me wrong. There is a lot of action in Mad Max. It starts with a mad car chase (actually, no, it starts with another highway patrolman perving through his rifle scope on a couple having sex, but that is immediately followed by a mad car chase). But the action is tedious. And repetitive. And often ridiculous.

The lines the actors were asked to deliver - I suppose they deserve awards for actually saying them, but then the desire to eat and pay rent can motivate one to do all sorts of things. The acting ranged from more ham than a piggery to so understated as to be non-existent, with understatement clearly mistaken for menacing (yes, Bubba, I'm looking at you). I now understand why everyone raves about Steve Bisley as Goose, because he was the only one who actually turned in a performance. He took his part and made it believable and fun and meaningful. Well, as meaningful as he could. He really is the standout in the whole thing.

As for Mel, the members of International Rescue have a wider range of expressions. There is one moment where he finally shows emotion, and completely over does it, when he goes to visit Goose in the hospital and sees his friend burnt to a crisp. I laughed and then groaned at the sheer ridiculousness of his extreme reaction, and wondered if he was going for broke because he was finally allowed to have a reaction. It wasn't till later that I realised he probably wasn't acting at all. It was just that the terrible truth dawned on him that the only other real actor in the film had done his last scene and he, Mel, was alone in the mire. Cue look of shock and horror. I wasn't too thrilled either.

The real surprise for me was that the film was 88 minutes. It felt much, much longer. I kept thinking "is it going to end?" (when I wasn't thinking "gods, get on with it"). I kept thinking, "will it pick up when his wife and baby die?" (seriously, you knew it was going to happen from the second you first saw them). No. It didn't. They died and within ten minutes all the bikie gang were dead and Max was driving away, and that was it. Stop. And I mean stop. The film didn't end, it didn't finish, it just... stopped. Woeful.

At the beginning of the next disc, Mad Max 2: the Road Warrior, Leonard Maltin gave a brief history of Max 1 and 2 (I suspect the boxed set has been specially brought out because of Fury Road). He talked about how it bombed in the US (he put it down to the stupid decision by the studio to dub American accents over the whole thing) and how well it did in the rest of the world and especially in Australia. And he revealed that this was the first film Kennedy and Miller had ever made. I cannot say it was a surprise (more a relief really. Explains a lot).

He also made the point that all the action in all the films was well before CGI, meaning everything had to be physically done. So there is a good point for Mad Max. There were some brave stunt men doing some crazy driving. Still not enough.

There are two things that really, really bother me about Mad Max. Firstly, it was the highest grossing Australian film at the time. Box office records tumbled before it. Given its rating, those who loved it looooooooved it, enough to see it multiple times. Other films to come out that year were "My Brilliant Career", "The Odd Angry Shot", "The Last of the Knucklemen", "Dimboola", "Tim", "The Plumber" (all from Australia), "Alien", "Frisco Kid", "Love at First Bite", "the Muppet Movie", "Star Trek the Motionless Picture", "Life of Brian", "Apocolypse Now", "The Lady Vanishes", "Hanover Street", "The Quatermass Conclusion". I could go on. All this and more to choose from, and Australians were going to Mad Max.It made about $5.4 million in Australia and about $100 million world wide (see? you don't need to succeed in the US market to succeed. Another point in its favour).

So what does this say about Australian audiences at the time that they would pay so much for something so second rate? Was it just the sex and violence, of which there was plenty? Was it the unashamedly ocker tone of the whole film, at a time that Australians were throwing off the cultural cringe? The clearly Australian setting? Our ongoing and increasingly obscene love affair with the car? Did some clutch it tighter to their chests because word got out of the US studio dubbing? I can't say. Maybe it's because I have never been mainstream "Australian" I find the embracing of this film opaque and bewildering, and, in light of its blindingly obvious shortcomings, embarrassing. So throw me out of Australia, ostracise me from mainstream Aussie culture. See if I care.

The other thing that bothers me about Mad Max is the squandering of a great opportunity. Mad Max is NOT post-apocalyptic. If you think it is, I suggest you have it confused with Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior. Mad Max is set in a time of societal decline. There are still structures there, attempts at order in the chaos, people and things don't look any different, but something is amiss. Things are on the slide.

Let's face it, fun as an apocalypse is, it has been done to hell and back, particularly lately (okay, fair dos, that wasn't the case in 1979, at least not to the same extent). Here is something much more interesting - disintegration. And it is used just as a backdrop. Okay, there is a sense of it there, but no exploration of it. Maybe I am being unfair. Maybe the pacing of the film is reflective of the pace of entropy, slow at first and then speeding up until, when Max's family is killed, it reaches light speed and tears the world apart, just as Max's life has been ripped to shreds. And maybe I am reading way too much into it in an attempt to find something, anything nice to say about this film, given it started Kennedy and Miller's careers. But I can't. Bring on the apocalypse.

If you can stomach my rantings, stay tuned for "The Only Way is Up: Mad Max 2 The Road Warrior".