Remember Me: Forgotten pictures

Remember Me: The Lost Diggers of Vignacourt
National War Memorial
November 2012 - July 2013

Apparently a picture is worth a thousand words, and actions speak louder than them, but the small, sentimental exhibit at the National War Memorial references words, pictures and deeds.

For much of the First World War Vignacourt was just behind the front lines; a staging point, casualty clearing station and recreation area for troops of all nationalities moving up to and then back from the battlefields on the Somme. Passing military traffic came from the British, American, Chinese, Indian, Scottish, Nepalese and French as well as Australian diggers.

An enterprising French couple, Louis and Antoinette Thuillier, established a business taking portrait photos. They took the photos in their stables and turned them into postcards so the soldiers could send them home, and maintain a fragile link with family and loved ones back home in Australia.

“Enough of war, we are now resting in a peaceful little village and it is lovely to lay in the sweet grass under the apple trees and forget the trials of war and think of home sweet home. Bill, Ern and myself had our photos taken today and I will send you one when I get them.” – Horace Arnold Parton, 5th Battalion, 1916

The negatives of these photos were discovered years later in the attic of a dilapidated farmhouse by a relative of the photographers, who generously donated many of them to the Australian War Memorial. There were over 4,000 pictorial records of soldiers on leave, tired and battle weary but having fun with their mates. AWM World War I expert, Peter Burness, says that two-thirds of these men would go on to be killed or wounded. “The losses were appalling. In all likelihood these images are the last photographs taken of many of these young men before they died.”

“By Jove! Australians! Those clean-shaven, sun-tanned, dust-covered men, who had come out of the hell of the Dardanelles and the burning drought of the Egyptian sands, looked wonderfully fresh in France. Youth, keen as steel, with a flash in the eyes, with an utter carelessness of any peril ahead, came riding down the street.” – Peter Gibbs, British War Correspondent, 1916

Members of a television news programme reprinted these pictures in a dark room, using traditional techniques on fibre-based paper. They saw the soldiers emerge from the darkness, and cleaned and silvered the images with selenium toning to create the silver gelatine photographs. This exhibition features 74 of these prints and 800 digital negatives, fleshed out with written diaries and letters as part of the museum’s collection. Many excerpts are from letters written to sisters, mums or sweethearts, asking for photo-mementos and news from home. It’s noticeable and slightly sad that there are so few letters written to dads.

Although the photographers did not record the names of these men, several researches have attempted to identify them through their uniforms. Other clues to their identity can be found in their epaulettes, colour patches, badges, rank insignia on uniforms, medal bars, ribbons and wound stripes worn on uniforms, and any kit or equipment they may be carrying. In many cases the battalion is known, as men for a battalion posed together, even though they knew their battalion would be disbanded.

British censorship on the Western Front meant that few such informal photographs exist outside the official record. Australia did not have its own official war photographer until 1917 and soldiers were not able (as they ewer in the Gallipoli campaign in the Dardanelles) to sneak their personal cameras into the war zone. The Thuillier collection fills a hole in the historical record. It covers many of the significant aspects of Australian involvement on the Western Front, from military life to the friendships and bonds formed between the soldiers and civilians.

“The brightest memory of the lot is that I have known real men. Men with the cover off. Men with their wonderful nobility of character, of mateship, revealed. It’s a glorious memory to have. To have known men as men... My mates! Memories of men! Memories of mates!” – Edward P. Francis Lynch, 45th Battalion, commenting after the war

Some men were members of the newly formed (1916) cyclist battalion who traded horses for bikes and pose proudly with their metal steeds. Perhaps there might be special sympathy for them from the riders of the Paris-Roubaix or Tour of Flanders as they clatter over the greasy cobbles? There are pictures of bands playing instruments and some delightful images of people shyly celebrating the armistice.

A few of the photos have snowfall as a backdrop – between 3rd and 13th January 1917 heavy snowfalls hit the region. The Commander of British unit in Vignacourt issued an order to his men: “No snowballs are to be thrown at the drivers of passing vehicles.” That they could consider such amusements is evidence that they are really still just lads. It makes it all the more poignant to consider, “It is a poor land rich with crosses. A troubled land where brave men rest forever.”

“Many things perforce remain unrecorded. The friendships, strong and clean as new steel, forged in the desert sand or the Somme mud that will savour life for us to the very end.” – Albert William Keown, 5th Battalion, commenting after the war

Friday Five: Red and White

A couple of years ago I mentioned my love of red and white as a colour combination. Leaving aside the fact that red and white grapes make up champagne, there are still at least five reasons why those colours look brilliant together:

5 Great Red and White combos:

1. Christmas - from stripy candy canes to the great jolly present-giver himself
2. England - the red rose of the House of Lancaster merged with the white rose of the House of York to form the Tudor rose and the emblem of England
3. Liverpool FC - need I say more?
4. Strawberries and cream - one of the best and simplest food presentations ever
5. Barbers' poles - curiously hypnotic

Looks good on E-types too

Friday Five: World's Worst...

Him Outdoors is a lift engineer. I mention this, for people who don't know, because it means I get specific running commentary when we ever watch any film with a lift scene. There are lots. Think Jason Bourne; James Bond; anything with action sequences...

I have never seen Towering Inferno but I am reliably informed that it has the least realistic lift scene ever. This is closely followed by Die Hard, which has many. I've seen it a few times and now even I am able to mumble caustically, 'that would never happen'. Incidentally, the scene in Mission: Impossible is apparently not only possible and realistic, but has actually been known to happen. I know, scary, right?

So I was thinking, who are the world's worst people with whom to watch a film, and have you ever done it? Leave me a comment to let me know.

5 worst people with whom to watch a film:

1. Hackers with a computer programmer
2. Vertical Limit with a climber 
3. Se7en with a serial killer
4. Rocky V with a boxer
5. Any of the Lord of the Rings films with anyone from Queenstown (if they're not in it, they know someone who is, and they will point them out at every opportunity)

For the record, I have done all of the above except number 3. To the best of my knowledge.

Celebrate Now!

Jubilant entertainments

Make the most poignant memories.

The saddest I am is when

I remember happy days

We can no longer share. But

I’m grateful for the experience

For all they make me cry.

So, yes, I shall celebrate

Every birthday, anniversary

And significant milestone

With those I love while they live

Though the same occasions,

Like unforgettable grave markers

Will haunt me when they die.

Amour - I love it

Obviously a festival favourite, this French language film has been shown at Paris, Berlin and Vienna, among others and won the Palme d’Or at Cannes 2012. It is a powerful exploration of an elderly couple, Anne (Emmanuelle Riva) and Georges (Jean-Louis Trintigant), whose relationship undergoes severe strain when Anne suffers a stroke and Georges has to care for her.

The story is told in one long flashback, so the outcome is known from the beginning. Both Anne and Georges are retired piano teachers, and an introductory scene shows them among an audience watching a pianist at a performance. The film features a lot of talk about music, and lots of records and CDs on the bookshelves, but there is no intrusive background music. Towards the end Georges drifts into music in his mind and he imagines Anne sitting at the piano.

One of Anne’s former pupils visits her and begins to play a piece on the piano in the apartment, but the film is often silent. When Georges plays the piano himself, we can clearly hear Anne’s breathing. A cleaner comes and does the hoovering; other sounds are running water or the chink of a knife on a plate. To break the quietude, Georges does the washing up with the radio on.

Apart from the opening concert scene, the film is shot entirely in the apartment. There are close-ups of the landscape pictures on the walls, and further intimate images of Anne’s face as she is fitted with a nappy by a nurse. This silence and single set, combined with a very small cast could become oppressive were it not for the sensitive direction of Michael Heneke and the outstanding acting abilities of the couple and their daughter, Eva (Isabelle Huppert) which flesh out this everyday domestic tale of ageing and family dynamics.

Anne’s incapacity is the result of a failed operation on a blocked carotid artery. There is only a 5% failure rate, but that is little comfort for the patient. Anne makes Georges promise never to take her back to the hospital, which he is willing to do in the early stages. She returns to the apartment in a motorised wheelchair, spinning around with rare laughter. They realise they still have many stories they haven’t told each other even after so many years of marriage, and their emotions intensify with their memories.

As Anne deteriorates, she becomes increasingly frustrated and grumpy. Georges tells her she will end up friendless and scolds, “What would you say if no one came to your funeral?” to which she replies, “Nothing, probably”. Georges cuts up her food, dresses her, takes her to the toilet, and washes her hair with a saucepan in the bath. He acts without any trace of rancour but it is clear that as he must do everything for her, neither of them has any independence.

When Anne tries to reach for a book, she falls out of bed and breaks a lamp. Georges calmly repositions her, and all the inanimate objects, mildly rebuking, “Can’t you call me when you need something?” Anne begs him not to treat her like a moron and insists that she doesn’t want to go on – not for her sake but for his – as she knows it will only get worse. His own fears are of being burgled or invaded and he worries about leaving the apartment to fetch groceries, involving the concierge and his wife who keep a respectful distance while supplying neighbourly assistance.

Hiring a nurse gives Georges some relief yet, despite his daughter’s urging, he refuses to renege on his promise. Eva reinforces the audience’s understanding of the bond between her parents when she tells Georges that she remembers hearing them make love. Unlike many children, she wasn’t embarrassed at the thought of her parents’ sex life but rather felt reassured, thinking it proved that they were in love and would always have each other.

Eva’s husband has affairs, which she is used to although her father doesn’t understand why she stays in an unhappy relationship. And this is the nub of the film – no one can understand the ties that bind, whether through marriage or blood. Georges tells Eva, “I love you as much as your mother” but his ability to juggle affiliations is limited. When Eva bemoans Anne’s state, Georges tells her, “Your concern is no use to me. I don’t have time to deal with your concern. It annoys me to see you breeze in here saying what’s right. Who do you think you are?” She is family.

Armour is subtle and stunning, saying so much in so few words. It is heart-wrenchingly beautiful and dignified, despite its somewhat depressing premise. We can only agree with Anne’s final whispered words; “C’est beau, la vie”.

Friday Five: TV Detective Duos

I was going to make this post about something else entirely, but then I heard this morning that Lewis Collins had died. Instantly I heard the theme tune to The Professionals in my head. It was one of my favourite television programmes as a kid.

I think my first childhood crush was on Martin Shaw (closely followed by Kevin Keegan - odd to think that I may have had a thing about perms?) but I loved everything about it from the opening credits, with the car breaking through the window, to the solid plot-lines and thrilling (to a young viewer in the late 70s/ early 80s) stunts and car chases. We used to play The Professionals in the playground, ducking behind doorways and running along corridors to fling ourselves on the floor shouting 'Cover me!' 

What stood out most, however, was the excellent characterisation, dialogue and chemistry between the actors. They seemed real people with a sense of humour and a past that influenced their actions, rather than just puppets mouthing the words to advance the story. Bodie and Doyle were among the finest TV detective duos I have ever seen, and they established my appreciation for the gritty/ witty drama I have admired ever since.

Apart from Bodie and Doyle (who are unquestionable leaders of this genre), I would also like to make a special mention of the Doctor (Christopher Eccleston/ David Tennant) and Rose. Their partnership across time and space was a powerful one, although they can't really be included in this list as they are not strictly detectives. 

5 Favourite TV Detective Duos:

1. Sam Tyler (John Simm) and Gene Hunt (Philip Glenister) - yes, there is Life on Mars. This was such a wonderful concept with brilliant acting, and the sum of these two was way more than their parts.
2. Inspector Morse (John Thaw) and Sergeant Lewis (Kevin Whatley) - later Inspector Lewis and Detective Sergeant Hathaway (Laurence Fox) - the interaction between the characters in Morse was as important as the sleuthing, and the spin-off series of Lewis was equally (but differently) remarkable.
3. Sherlock Holmes (Benedict Cumberbatch) and Dr. John Watson (Martin Freeman) - the reinvention of this famous duo was superb. Once again, individual talent is more than doubled.
4. John Steed (Patrick Macnee) and Emma Peel (Diana Rigg) - The Avengers was the stuff of my childhood dreams, and nightmares.
5. Maddie Hayes (Cybil Shepherd) and David Addison (Bruce Willis) - the first two series of Moonlighting were the best thing on American television - the mixture of comedy and drama with witty dialogue and larger-than-life personalities was quirky and original. As usual, for American series, it went on too long past its sell-by date.

Two Gents: Many Parts

Two Gentlemen of Verona (Vakomana Vaviri ve Zimbabwe)
Street Theatre, 19, 21, 23 March 2013

Shakespeare’s comedies can be very confusing for a modern audience, with mistaken identity, cross dressing, clownish characters, exalted romance, and outdated themes of filial loyalty and banishment. This South African township theatre version, featuring only two actors, Denton Chikura and Tonderai Munyebvu, has the potential to be even more baffling, yet their adaptation (along with Arne Pohlmeier, who also directed) is simply sublime. To paraphrase from another Shakespearean play, they have into a thousand parts divided two men.

In the beginning, Munyebvu (arguably the more cerebral of the pair) appears through the emergency exit door carrying a suitcase. Is he part of the play? Is he meant to be here? He is shortly joined by Munyebvu (a master of physical comedy), and the wondrous aspect is set. Immediately the audience is directly involved in the production as the actors include them – literally in the case of fleshing out the outlaws in one scene where audience members are ushered on stage and then moved and manipulated by Chikura and Munyebvu as they speak from behind them, putting words into their mouths.

The actors embody all of the characters of the play, changing between them with just a twist of a shawl, a flourish of a cloak, or a flick of a glove. These costume items emerge from the suitcase, which also features as the only prop and doubles as, among other things, a bath a boat, and a table. The diligent duo play everyone from Julia disguised as a page boy to follow her lover, Proteus, to Crab the dog with rolling eyes and panting tongue. A man playing a woman playing a man seems authentically Shakespearean, while a man playing an anthropomorphosised dog takes the drama to another level entirely.

Just as there is no divide between the actors and the audience, there is no class barrier between the masters (Proteus and Valentine) and the servants (Launce and Speed). The actors respect the language – Proteus and Valentine speak in blank verse – but they are not above making asides to the audience to ensure that they understand and are participating. When Chikura complains that Munyebvu has spat on him, Munyebvu explains, “It’s all these plosives you can see – when you get plosives, you can do it too.” When Munyebvu appears to be distracted, Chikura complains, “He always makes this noise during my monologue”.

As Valentine writing a letter to Sylvia’s lover, Thurio, Chikura exhorts the audience, “keep up; there’s only two of us.” Letters play a major role in the plot and are read out on palms and traded with high fives. Similarly rings are exchanged with a clicking of fingers. The pared-back performance is pieced out by delicious African rhythms played upon the suitcase, and an instrument that may be a balafon, while the harmonious voices of the actors swell the scene.

It’s not all a laugh a minute, however, as the play touches upon some dark and serious themes. When Valentine first sets out for Milan from Verona, he wants his friend Proteus to accompany him, but Proteus wishes to remain behind with his love, Julia. Proteus’ father orders him to follow Valentine, which he does, after many fond farewells to his Julia. In Milan, Valentine falls in love with Sylvia, the Duke’s daughter, but when Proteus spies Sylvia, he forgets his promised love for Julia and vows to win Sylvia for himself. The bonds of love and friendship are sorely tested. In an interview Munyevbu reveals that when he plays Proteus betraying Valentine, he has had audience members interjecting to tell him he is a ‘bad man’.

The most problematic and ugly aspect of the play is the ending in which Proteus, learning that Sylvia is not in love with him pursues her into the woods and threatens, “I’ll force thee to yield to my desire.” Valentine encounters this scene and is disgusted with Proteus but forgives him after Proteus demonstrates what he considers to be true repentance, while Julia, still disguised as a boy has also witnessed the attempted rape. This tragic scene becomes desperately serious as the character of Sylvia becomes a discarded glove.

It is tricky to reinstate the comic closure where the original couples are reunited and the production does not gloss over the dichotomy. The final scene is left to Sylvia and Julia to share an overwhelmingly tender and emotional moment without words but where looks convey action and thought in the most profound interpretation. Many plot devices are sacrificed to the development of character and comedy but the truth of the sentiments – love, friendship, constancy, repentance, forgiveness, and devotion (including the master and his dog) – are all emphasised.

For a Zimbabwean company living in Britain in exile from the Mugabe regime, the themes of displacement and enforced travel are powerful. The company are between boundaries and cultures with their individual experience of Diaspora. For four years they have travelled globally, including performing this play in the African language of Shona as part of the Globe to Globe festival.

The vibrant production of Shakespeare’s earliest and possibly least performed play is a triumph. The hour and a half flies by in the capable hands, mouths and bodies of one of the most engaging double acts I have ever seen.