Tag Archives: Australia

Through a Glass Mission Brown: Cosmo, “Paper Giants” & the 70s

Over the last two nights ABC television has presented a semi-fictional drama based on the advent of the woman’s magazine ‘Cleo’ in the Australian publishing market of the early 1970s. “Paper Giants” depicted in what many would consider to be a romanticized fashion the early career of Ita Buttrose and her tempestuous employers, the Packers (Sir Frank and Kerry). In itself an entertaining piece of TV, unlike the more lightweight brethren of the Australian TV drama world (i.e. commercial soap operas)  this two-parter not only tried to keep the viewers focused for a tick over three hours on the episodes, it also tried to resonate historically plus give some kind of social insight into the various issues it portrayed (women’s rights, sexual discourse, the pressures of work on families, etc).

Overall, from my amateur, child of the 70s, male perspective I think “Paper Giants” was an enjoyable piece of television and yet marginally of value as an interpretation of the changes underpinning Australian society and history at that time (i.e. the pre-Fraser years). However some of the themes appeared to be historically muddied or too narrow in focus, relying too much on the self-appointed importance of ‘Cleo’. Also the underlying premise, that the beginnings of a woman’s magazine run by Ita Buttrose and the Packers could provide a unique and telling insight into Australia as it was then seems to me at best a problematic position.

Taking the last point first, is the story of the ACP’s radical answer to ‘Cosmopolitan’ a solid entry point for a TV drama to examine what Australia was like in the early 70s? In all honesty no, and this isn’t the fault of the show’s producers. At the risk of taking the higher and broader approach favoured by historians of yore the most telling way to understand what was happening in Australia to Australians before and during the events of the 1975 dismissal is through the story of Gough Whitlam and his federal Labor government of 1972-1975. “Paper Giants” attempted to reflect itself against Gough’s rise and fall, showing the younger staff on ‘Cleo’ firmly behind Whitlam’s spirit of the times if not his policies, whereas the character of Kerry Packer was seen as representative of much of the old conservative business establishment of the time, writing of the ALP government as economic wreckers. However the technique of using a ‘people’s level’ standpoint to look at grand sweeping social and historical changes can only go so far. Just as one wouldn’t use ‘War and Peace’ to understand Napoleon’s 1912 invasion of Russia or “The Sullivans” to understand World War Two, “Paper Giants” is more a series of vignettes about Whitlam-era Australia. To get a far more useful and telling insight through a TV drama on the times that were arguably the most tempestuous of the last 50 years of the twentieth century the first and best option always will be “The Dismissal”:

Portraying the differences in how young Australian women dressed, found out about sex toys or struggled to find a balance between work and family as was done in ‘Paper Giants” is arguably too superficial, too focused on trivial minutiae of day to day life, or even non-specific to the era. The gender wars, fashion, culinary trends and all those kinds of social issues are always in a state of flux, the difference being the actual things we wore, drank, listened to, watched, played with etc etc. On the other hand the political and social spirit of the Whitlam era is utterly unique and needs to be seen through the two most significant lenses of the time; Kerr’s sacking of the government in 1975 and end of the Vietnam War for Australia by 1973. Both of these issues have been dealt with very successfully by Kennedy-Miller mini-series from the 1980s, and it’s an unfortunate shame that “Paper Giants” can’t tread new steps in the footprints of these programs.

There are other stories about Australia from this era that could also be just as important and just as instructive as to how Australia progressed as a nation and as a society during the 70s which have as yet not been aired. I recall with tremendous clarity another story that perhaps was far more divisive and far more influential, even though it’s origins were hardly nationally important. When Kerry Packer decided that the TV coverage for test cricket in Australia should be his on the Nine Network, and the establishment failed to do what he wanted, the same larger than life media magnate effectively destroyed the establishment of the game internationally, creating the World Series Cricket circus which for 2 years divided loyalties and sparked bitter legal, even diplomatic conflicts. That would be a highly suitable subject for the same kind of production presented in the style of “Paper Giants”.

How about Jack Munday, the BLF and the Green Bans placed on the planned redevelopment of The Rocks in the early 70s? The boat people influx from South East Asia after the Vietnam War? The anti-Kerr protest movement post-1975, perhaps tied in with a postscript on the decline of Gough Whitlam to 1977? A mini-series showing how the single most important youth program on Australian TV grew (i.e. Molly Meldrum’s “Countdown”)? Or a docudrama based on the most controversial soap opera of its time, “Number 96”? Whether from high or low culture, national politics or sport; there are more interesting and arguably just as important stories from Australia’s seventies history that could and should be told on TV in the early 21st century.

The second problem facing “Paper Giants” is the historical veracity of the program and the associated historical significance of “Cleo” itself. There were without doubt some generic accuracies relating to parts of the story. Jack Thompson did pose semi-nude for “Cleo” and at the time he was shacked up with two sisters. Kerry Packer and his brother Clyde did  struggle to deal with their father’s regime and it was true that Mike Willesee was almost the first centrefold for the magazine. However the whole significance of a racy publication that had a smaller circulation than its far more established and conservative stablemate ‘Women’s Weekly’ must be carefully weighted. How important was “Cleo” in depicting sexuality and nudity during the early 70s in Australia contrasted with more popular and arguably more important media as embodied in “Number 96”? For those who shaped Australian business and public policy magazines such as “The Bulletin” and “The National Review” were arguably just as crucial. Men still had access to the old “Australasian Post” which was perhaps just as significant in terms of readership and influencing Aussie male culture as “Cleo” was for women’s culture. Then there were local and imported books ranging from Germaine Greer’s “The Female Eunuch” through to Alex Comfort’s “Joy Of Sex”. “Cleo hardly failed to inspire a culinary or fashion revolution in Australia, insofar as much of the impetus for these changes came from immigrants coming to this country or young Aussies coming back from overseas. Perhaps “Cleo” and the whole Packer/Buttrose collaboration as depicted in “Paper Giants” was most important historically because it was a symptom of the times, not a catalyst or causal agent. And of course journos and publishers are besotted with the idea of being the men and women who shape how society thinks (without understanding sometimes the consumer of the media can make their own mind up without guidance from a sensationalist magazine).

If one was to sit back and let “Paper Giants” do its first and primary job as a television show and entertain the viewer then I think there are far too few current Australian productions that can do what this docudrama did. It may have been 70s History-Lite or Women’s Rights Through Media 101, but it was a good story reasonably well told for an audience which may not have anywhere near the intimacy of knowledge of the subject nor the personal experience to pick huge holes in the narrative’s historicity. As a summation and reflection of a time when Australia changed more radically than it had for generations, tinted with rose colour mini-series glasses it’s was better than to be expected. However like almost all semi-fictional TV or movie adaptations of real events the underlying medium itself as well as the cribbed short cuts in terms of explaining the politics and society of the times means it fails to really inform as well as entertain. By taking its subject too seriously whilst dressing it up in both the fanciful and the vaguely historic it contorts our past for those who weren’t there in ways that aren’t always accurate.

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Australia Needs a New Damien Parer

The first Australian film to ever achieve the honour of collecting an Oscar from the American Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences was ‘Kokoda Front Line’ , which shared with three other winners the 1942 Best Documentary award. A Ken G Hall produced and directed feature length newsreel film, this iconic part of Australian cinema and military history relied upon the footage shot by one of our greatest cameramen, Damien Parer. Much like his static film predecessor Frank Hurley and the later Australian combat cameraman Neil Davis Parer was able to combine a true artist’s eye with personal bravery and a connection with his subject, giving Australians a better than expected insight into what happened to men before, during and after battle. There would be hardly any person who has not observed Anzac Day in Australia who would be unfamiliar with iconic images such as this one from ‘Kokoda Front Line’:Parer was able to do something that the founder of the Australian War Memorial and the man who did more than anyone else to create the legend of the Aussie digger, C.E.W. Bean could never do with his words and his official histories. Damien Parer showed not just the people back home but a world wide audience moving images of Australian men fighting a cruel and rapacious enemy. Yes, it may have been propaganda but the work of Damien Parer gave a world wide audience the opportunity to see how Australia was defending what it believed in, and how our soldiers fought and died battling the Axis forces. Arguably consigned to a certain anonymity whilst operating with the British in the European and North African theatres of war, the men of the AIF (as well as those of the RAN and RAAF) were properly given their own cinematic face in movies such as ‘Kokoda Front Line’, ‘Men of Timor’ and ‘The Battle of Bismarck Sea’.

Sadly Damien Parer was killed filming US Marines during the Pelielu campaign in September 1944, suffering a fate innumerable combat cameramen have both before and after his death. Other Australians contributed to the filming of war after Parer, firstly for the newsreels and then with the advent of TV their footage was made available for the nightly news. The aforementioned Neil Davis was the next cameraman to get up close and personal to the soldier fighting a war, in his case the South Vietnamese and Cambodian troops of the Vietnam War. It was Davis who took the footage of an ARVN police chief executing a VC insurgent during the Tet Offensive, then at the war’s end he filmed an NVA tank crashing through the Saigon Presidential Palace gates.

Davis would die filming a Thai Army coup, leaving the succeeding generations of Australian film makers and TV journalists struggling to match his and Parer’s legacy. Partially (and thankfully) for last quarter of the Twentieth Century Australian soldiers did not fight in any wars. Our cameramen did watch, film and (as in the case of the Balibo Five) sometimes suffer the cruel fate of becoming the victims of other countries’ wars. However no one was able to do what Parer did for the diggers of Kokoda or Salamaua on the big or small screen.

In itself this would not be something to be too concerned about except within media and film making circles. However the environment has changed since September 11th 2001. The commencement of the so-called War on Terror’ has seen Australian troops fighting in two major theatres of that war, Iraq and Kuwait. And so far, aside from Department of Defence footage, some YouTube video and the occasional ABC current affairs report the work of our fighting men and women has been woefully under-reported in film:

This isn’t a reflection on the abilities or desires of the Australian combat cameraman or film/TV maker to get deep into the heart of the 21st century digger’s war experiences. It is however an indictment of the failure of the Australian government, no matter its political persuasion to trust people at home with something more than micromanaged minutes of footage authorised by the Department of Defence. I would not call it censorship, although others almost certainly would. Nor would I say that the vision that has been released is utterly worthless propaganda (as the likes of a John Pilger may say). However the manner in which our vision of the war in Afghanistan has been conveyed since the almost total withdrawal of Australian ground forces in the Iraq theatre must be considered utterly unsatisfactory. There have been two VC’s awarded since January 2009 and our casualties there have risen steadily. Brave men have fought and become casualties in a war that supposedly is on our behalf and yet through governmental deflection (at best) or misdirection (at worst) we have not been given the moving images to properly dignify our troop’s efforts nor their sacrifices. For too long there has been a huge gulf between the occasional DoD news briefing and the almost stock scenes of our political leaders attending the funerals of those who have fallen in combat.

I’m not saying that we need to be shown a myth-making paean to our men and women in the war zone of Afghanistan, and I know that contemporary media cynicism means we won’t be able to accept a new ‘Kokoda Front Line’ set this time in Tarin Kowt. However there are effective and meaningful precedents from other countries and their film and TV journalists, who have brought back from the war on terror significant movies that actually go some way to reflecting a combat reality we don’t get in government coverage of embedded ‘Four Corners’ type reports. My prima facie evidence is the much lauded US film ‘Restrepo’:

‘Restrepo’ gets into the FOB of a company of US troops and doesn’t just go out on patrol with the men then scoots back to Bagram air base for hot meals, cold beers and an editing suite. It’s classic combat documentary cinema, insofar as the men in battle aren’t mythic heroes, they are soldiers who can do things no civilian would ever want to and yet at the same time they are fallible and vulnerable. There are mistakes and casualties, bravura and boredom, however one thing there is not is the BS factor of a micromanaged government sponsored film crew. This is a film that is a great example of how embedding with the troops to film their war actually adds depth and reality to something we civilians are almost utterly divorced from.

It has been utterly remiss of our media, our film and TV producers, our government and even those of us home here in Australia not to ask for more realism, more access to our men and women as they are engaged in a war on our behalf. We can’t all be expected to read Department of Defence media releases, nor can we seek truths that are at best relative and at worst not possible to find. We can however ask why no one has been able to put together for more than the length of a sound bite an independent documentary film or TV production that gets behind the barbed wire, goes out on patrol or nestles in underneath the OHP of a firing pit with the current generation of diggers. Marshall McLuhan said that the Vietnam War was lost in the living rooms of America; that may be true. For Australia the Afghanistan War is invisible not just from our lounge rooms, but also from our streets, our cinemas, our worplace discussions and our political debates. Let’s hope a new Damien Parer or the production team behind such a combat film maker can emerge before too late.

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