My Newest Favourite Thing: The Wharfies' Mural

One of the most iconic treasures in the Australian National Maritime Museum is the Wharfies’ Mural. It is a window into the cultural movements that occurred among workers on the waterfront during the 20th century, and a reminder of their significant role in broader Australian politics and society.

This mural, an iconic example of Australian working-class cultural expression, originally adorned the canteen walls of the Waterside Workers' Federation building in the busy waterfront of Darling Harbour. Painted in stages mainly between 1953 and 1965, it was a collective effort by nine artists, including waterside labourers, or 'wharfies'. 

Though vital to Australia, wharf labouring was hard, dangerous, low-status work. The maritime unions had long fought for improved wages and conditions, and they took a lead role in national campaigns for social justice, minority rights and anti-war activism. This mural celebrates and memorialises that history.

The Waterside Workers' Federation encouraged the cultural and artistic development of its members. With the support of union leader Tom Nelson, artist Rod Shaw and wharfie Sonny Glynn developed a design that could intertwine maritime and labour history. For years wharfies ate their lunch as the artists worked, debating the social and political struggles as they appeared on the wall.

Reflecting the social and political ideals of those involved, the mural for the Waterside Workers' Federation (WWF) canteen was a collective effort. By the 1950s murals were important to left-wing and working-class cultural expression, particularly in communist circles. Rather than elite activities, artistic creation and appreciation were seen as accessible to everyone. Realist art and so-called 'conscious propaganda' were a focus. Producing banners and placards for May Day marches set the creative groundwork for the mural's creation. Mural artist Evelyn Healy for example, first painted banners for May Day in 1938.

Conversations between the artists, union leaders and wharf labourers guided the struggles and victories that the mural depicted. With the help of wharfie Sonny Glynn, Rod Shaw projected the initial sketches onto the wall and then outlined them in chalk. He then painted over them in oil paint created with pigments from the printery where he worked. Shaw conceived the mural's structure as major themes painted in dark, sepia tones with spaces left for cameos, or small windows, that would be painted in full colour by different artists. He described the effect as 'like a tapestry'.

From those first lines on the wall, the mural eventually wrapped around multiple surfaces in the canteen. It was created in four phases. The first was from 1953 to around 1956 by Rod Shaw with Sonny Glynn, Evelyn Healy, Vi Collings, Harry McDonald and Pat Kelk Graham. The second phase between 1957 and 1960 was painted by Clem Millward and Harry Reade, assisted by Ralph Sawyer. The third phase in the early 1960s saw Sonny Glynn returning to work on the mural with Sawyer. During the final phase after the mural was relocated in several pieces to the new union building, Swayer filled the remaining blank cameo in 1993.

"The ideas for the mural were discussed with a lot of people. Many of us did preliminary sketches for the General Strike of 1917; that's where we started... We got a rough idea and finally Rod put some rough-outs up on the wall." - Artist Vi Collins, 1992

The harsh physical and economic realities of waterside labouring drove the creation of maritime unions in the 1800s - collective effort to ensure safer and more just working conditions. The struggles, aspirations and victories expressed in The Wharfies' Mural reveal a far-reaching trajectory with implications for workers in Australia today. What began as a localised fight on the docks in the 19th century led to ongoing organised agitation for social change. Union support for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander justice, women's economic equality, worker's rights, internation solidarity and global peace continues well into the 21st century.

Art and politics are often intertwined. The mural examplifies this convergence. Local artists, inspired by Socialist Realism and left-wing thought, formed groups such as the Studio of Realist Art, hoping to take art from a prerogative of a few to a concern of the many. Likewise, progressive film-making, theatre and visual arts in the 1950s sought to depict the seemingly invisible experiences of the working class and make them accessible to all. Created through communal effort and now preserved for future generations, the mural speaks to the wharfies' trials, triumphs and shared cause. 

"I believe it is... a very early example of a cooperative work of art. It involved time, a lot of thought, you know, a lot of everything - a lot of heart." - Artist, Clem Millward, 1992

Friday Five: Books Read in July

1. Redback by Howard Jacobson (Black Swan) - I struggled with The Finkler Question, so thought it was worth giving Howard Jacobson another go; he is well-known for being funny and writing award-winning fiction. I suspect, however, his may be a style of humour (self-indulgent, middle-class, academic white man) that has passed me by. Think Tom Sharpe and Kingsley Amis, but more Jewish. Dense paragraphs, picaresque style, random characters, anxious first-person narrator, excessive hyperbole, roughly linear narrative peppered with tangents, flashbacks and digressions, and a barely-there storyline all appear to be hallmarks of the author's practice. The plot, such as it is, is that Karl Leon Forelock receives a double-first in Moral Decenies from Cambridge, is recruited by the CIA, and heads to Australia as a spy where he attends a lot of parties and makes sweeping generalistions about the country and women, whom he clearly doesn't understand. While he claims to have resolutely, "kept my nose out of politics", he feels entitled to comment on such matters, occasionally with amusing results. “Liberal in Australia, incidentally, means Conservative (unlike in England where it means nothing very much in particular), and is not to be confused with Labour. Which also means Conservative only not to quite the same degree.” Written in the 1980s, and set in the 1960s, the tone of this novel is very much last century.
2. An American Marriage by Tayari Jones - The winner of the 2019 Women's Prize for Fiction is an extremely engaging and accessible novel, narrated by the main three protagonists. Celestial and Roy are happily and newly married when he is arrested and sentenced to twelve years in prison in Louisiana for a crime Celestial knows he didn’t commit. She finds comfort in her childhood friend, Andre, Roy’s best man at their wedding. As their feelings develop, Roy’s conviction is overturned and Celestial has big decisions to make. Celestial is an artist; Roy is a business executive – they are not the blue-collar stereotypes of the American South, but because they are African-American, their lives are destroyed by a system which is prejudiced against them. On the evening of the alleged crime (a woman was raped and claims Roy was the perpetrator and, as a black man in the wrong place at the wrong time, he is almost automatically convicted) Roy and Celestial had had a big fight. This is their last interaction before he is hauled away by the police, and the situation throws their 'perfect' marriage into question. Jones has expressed that her novel is a version of The Odyssey, with Celestial playing the role of the waiting wife, unsure how to handle the return of her man. The men are infuriating as they fight over Celestial - "You don’t have to pee on her like a dog marking your territory. Have some manners.” They may well have suffered hardship and institutionalised racism, but that does not excuse their machismo and their sexism. This was a favourite of Oprah, Obama, and books clubs all across America.
3. The Windsor Knot by S.J. Bennett - This is the first in what has become a series of cosy crime novels, described as ‘Miss Marple meets The Crown’ in which the Queen solves mysteries. It was written in 2020, when the author went on a writer’s retreat during the pandemic to write something else entirely and came up with this instead. It’s highly implausible but thoroughly entertaining, as we are told, “The Queen solves mysteries. She solved the first one when she was twelve or thirteen, so the story goes. On her own. She sees things other people don’t see – often because they’re all looking at her. She knows so much about so many things. She’s got an eagle eye, a nose for bullshit and a fabulous memory. Her staff should trust her more.” At the behest of Prince Charles, the Queen hosts a ‘dine and sleep’ for Russian dancers, composers, and selected glitterati. When a pianist is found strangled the next day, hanged by the cord of his dressing gown in a wardrobe at Windsor Castle, the optics aren’t good. Initially it appears that it may have been a case of autoeroticism gone wrong, although the aides are hesitant to alert the Queen to this fact. She, meanwhile, tells Prince Philip that she is unshockable because “I’ve lived through a world war, that Ferguson girl and you in the Navy.” The MI5 suspect political involvement, but the Queen disagrees and sets out to solve the crime herself. Which, of course, she does.
4. Murder in Paradise by Ann Cleeves - Set on Kinness, an island off the coast of Scotland (bleak and misty with 'traditional values' and sheep), this is billed as a George and Molly Palmer-Jones mystery, but George is on his own, and Molly is back at home. George works with Sarah instead, a new bride who has just got married to Jim and returned to the island (where he grew up) for celebrations. It is difficult for her to adjust as everyone has secret alliances and their own ways of being. There is very little bird-watching (they ring some swans and shoot some geese) and George is cross and irritable with everyone and everything including himself and his feelings about retirement. “How pagan they are still, he thought… They pretend to be Christian, but when they’ve had a few drinks, they still behave like loutish Norsemen.” George is determined to solve the crime – the death of a girl who is believed to have fallen to her death – and even this annoys him. “He felt the weight of responsibility. It was as if the police had given up, and had handed over the task of finding the murderer to him.” The murder seems incidental to the narrative, which is more about adaptability. There is an entire red herring thread about child abuse, but mostly the islanders are afraid of change and the pervasive question is whether they can preserve the island as it is, or does that make it a museum?
5. Cassandra Speaks: When Women Are the Storytellers, the Human Story Changes by Deborah Lesser - Inspired by a woman at a conference who was exploring 'the power of myth in modern culture' (basically, my university dissertation), the author decides to look at how female stories are interpreted, such as those of Eve, Pandora, Athena. It has a very Western focus.  Her tone is irritating - telling people what to do and treating the audience as if they haven’t considered this before she brought it to our attention. I am not surprised to learn she delivers TED talks; her approach is didactic, individual, and lecturing. She comments,“Everything I knew about European history had to do with wars and kings, trade routes and power plays between religions, royalty and tyrants. Why did we only know and care about those aspects of being human?” Speak for yourself! Maybe stop blaming education from fifty years ago and look into things yourself, like those of us who are interested already have. It may appeal to young people (as the alarming pink jacket suggests) as their first foray into this sphere, but there is nothing in here that I haven't read (in better formats) before.

My Newest Favourite Thing: Peter Williams' art

When we were in Mogo, we went to an art gallery, and I found these vibrant landscapes which I really admire. I like the intricacies of light, water, reflections and individual leaves, blades of grass and drops of water. They are painted by Peter Williams, and I think they capture the local environment. I also appreciate the setting with the wooden floors, clean lines and fitting furniture. It's well worth a stop if you're driving to or from the coast. 

 

Friday Five (Actually Twelve): Paris Olympics 2024 Opening Ceremony

Let's start with the opening ceremony. Wow; c'était fou! I loved it. There has been a lot of talk about it being disorganised and chaotic, but I loved the madcap nature of the event as it showcased Paris as it is, and if you don't like it, tant pis - which is as French as you get.

Firstly, it is the first time in the history of the Summer Games that the Opening Ceremony did not take place in a stadium. The idea was that it would bring the sports to the city; the athletes travelled down the Seine in a variety of boats, and the punters lined the quays (or les rives) for free to cheer on the participants and to enjoy the spectacle. Yes, it rained, but so what? It rains in France. There was a nice touch with a tri-coloured 'water fountain' smoke above one of the bridges, although there was some poor bloke strapped above it with an accordion and wings getting absolutely drenched.

The boats were an inspired touch. The flotilla appeared in French alphabetical order, which was fun to remember that Germany is L'Allemagne and Spain is Espagne. Several people in the Twitterverse were getting very confused, which is also fun. They were complaining that there was no Les Etats Unis or Australie, until it was pointed out that the next Olympics are in Los Angeles and the 2032 event in Brisbane, so those hosting countries are second last and third last respectively, before France brings up the rear.

All the boats are different shapes and sizes, looking like a reverse Dunkirk affair - the Americans have the biggest and flashiest; the French have the most stylish; and Bhutan have the most expensive - the three athletes representing Bhutan are aboard a 1964 vintage Murano, 'a Riva Yachts Venetian limousine tender built in mahogany and varnished to a high sheen'. 

Brazil have a party boat, the Cambodian craft looks like it is about to get swamped, and the patched-up Refugee Olympic Team vessel would have been turned back by Tony Abbott. Many nations have to share with each other. Team GB (Tom Daly and Helen Glover doing flag waving duty and obligatory Titanic pose) share with Grenada, Guam and Guatemala. Because the TV commentators have absolutely no clue what is happening (other than that it is raining), they revert to their notes frequently. Hence I learn that Guatemala is one of the few countries to have won more Nobel prizes than Olympic medals, Lichtenstein's national anthem is the same tune as God Save the King, and Nepal is the only country in the world with a non-quadrilateral flag.

The athletes are all proudly wearing their national outfits (Belgium are either all in red, yellow or black; the Bermudans wear shorts that in Bermuda they probably just call 'shorts'), although as the day wears on and the rain increases many of them cover them up with fetching plastic ponchos. Bulgaria looks like they are about to go to war; Burkina Faso have good hats; Naby Keita is the flag bearer for Guinea; according to the commentators Guinea-Bissau is one of the 'new countries' who have never won a medal; insights into the Italians (in outfits by Armani) is that theirs is a country of 'great people; great food'.

Mongolia have the best uniforms; Mozambique are wearing pop art jackets; the folk from Niger all salute as they sail past; Slovenia are literally bouncing, as are Sudan in a very small boat (not sure the optics are great on that one); USA, of course, has the largest contingent (over 500 athletes) and appear to be navigating the Seine on a cruise ship; France has the nicest boat, which is gleaming white and all lit up like an ocean liner.

The ceremony was divided into sections to give it a rough thematic element. I shall try and explain what occured in some of them, but (due to the commentators not having a clue what was going on), I may well get some of this completely confused. Throughout it all there was some mysterious parcours torch bearer, who nicked the torch from a bunch of kids and then nipped about with it on the roof tops.

1. Enchanté - a sort of pink section in which Lady Gaga does a turn with flaming galas, fans and large pom-poms, which are apparently a girl's best friend as she imitates a French Marilyn Monroe, walking down golden steps with art nouveau Paris metro signs. It's all about 'culture, spirit and personality' apparently. There are dancers wearing cellophane hats and doing the can-can, which appears hugely out of time but that could be due to the way that sound (and light) travels in waves. There is a rugby sevens lift in a section called 'chic' and a tribute to French characters over the years, only marginally marred by the fact that no one appears to know who they are. The parcours ninja dude is now on a zipline.

2. Synchronicité - there is a tribute to the workers who are restoring Notre Dame, involving much pirouetting and dancing on scaffolding. A golden wave is depicted on the buildings alongside the quay while an orchestra is back-lit in a window. We learn there is a special Louis Vitton case for the medals and that each one contains a piece of the Eiffel Tower, which must make one a little wary of climbing it now (or in fact of being anywhere near it), in case it falls down, what with all those bits removed. The medals are carried down the river in a boat manned by Martin Foucard (former biathlete and most successful French Winter Olympian of all time) and Michael Phelps - at least he can swim to collect the medals if they fall in.  There's more celebrations of French craftspeople, some damp breakdancing on a pontoon in the river and a spot of ballet on the rooftops. More footage of Notre Dame, with a hunchback on the spire and a few Les Miserables references (that's Victor Hugo covered). 

3. Liberté - and now we come to the revolution - oh, those crazy French celebrating decapitated bodies. The windows are full of headless Marie Antoinettes (the parcours dude watches on from across the river) with pyrotechnics, rock music (Gojira performing Mea Culpa (Ah Ca Ira) which is utterly fabulous), a woman singing opera (possibly The Marriage of Figaro) in the prow of a golden barge, blood red streamers being fired out of cannons, and people on poles above the Pont des Arts (the bridge with all the padlocks) à la Kate Miller-Heidke's Eurovision performance. Then cut to a quiet section in a library promoting love and literature, Verlaine in Harlequin outfits, wafting paper, references to Guy de Maupassant, Raymond Radiguet, Moliere, Choleros de Laclos and Marivaux, a chap on a highwire, the bright colours of the Pompidou Centre and non-too subtle allusions to love beween same sex couples and a menage a trois before a heart appears in the sky over l'ile de la cite.

4. Egalité - This is represented by a brass band in military uniform marching across a bridge. The parcours bloke runs past and lights up a building; a golden catwalk appears on which there is RnB pop performed to the accompaniment of the military band. 

5. Fraternité - The parcours chap is now in the Louvre (we had to go there) and he runs past various masterpieces, where the figures contained within the frames turn to look at him. Next thing, there are empty canvases, as all the people have popped out to head to the windows and overlook the river procession, where the athletes are now all shrouded in fetching plastic ponchos and some poor bloke is playing the piano in the driving rain which is literally bouncing off the keyboard. But wait, what's this? Oh no! La Gioconda has disparu! A periscope pops up and we discover that the Minions have stolen the painting and are doing field sports in a submarine. One of them throws a javelin which bursts the walls of the vessel, which floods and they all end up floating on the surface. We see through the spectacular clock face on the Musée d'Orsay and suddenly there is a balloon which floats up to the moon with the bullet casing in its eye (nod to Jules Verne) and Le Petit Prince is also there. This all culminates in a beautiful verion of La Marseillaise atop Le Grand Palais performed by mezzo-soprano Axelle Saint-Cirel.

6. Sororité - After the men, we have the women (plus ça change... but at least we have them). Famous iconic faces emerge from the water, echoed by golden statues on the quay. These include Olympe de Gouges (woman of letters, politican and activist; best known for her Declaration of the Rights of Women and The Female Citizen written in 1791 during the French Revolution; campaigned for the abolition of slavery and was guillotined in 1793), Alice Milliat (1884-1957; pioneer of women's sport whose successful lobbying on behalf of female athletes led to the inclusion of many more sports within the Olympic Games), Gisèle Halimi (1927-2020; lawyer, politician, essayist and activist; former deputy of the French National Assembly), Paulette Nardal (1896-1985; writer and journalist who became the first black woman to study at the Sorbonne), Jeanne Barret (1740-1807; the first woman to circumnavigate the globe - I read a great book about her by Glynis Ridley called The Discovery of Jeanne Barret), Chrsitine de Pizan (1364-1431; philosopher and poet and the first author to make a living from writing, among other works she wrote La Cité des Dames in which she extolled illustrious women and imagined a female government), Louise Michel (1830-1905; teacher, writer and feminist activist who took an active part in the events of the Paris Commune in 1871. She was deported to New Caledonia where she continued her fight against French colonialism), Alice Guy (1973-1968; one of the world's first female directors, her film La Feé aux Choux is considered the first narrative film), and Simone Veil (1927-2017; Holocaust survivor, politician and advocate for women's rights, particularly known for legalising abortion in France). We were also meant to have Simone de Beauvoir (1908-1986; philosopher, writer and feminist theorist most famous for writing Le Deuxièm Sexe), but her pedestal failed to rise due to technical difficulties, which I am trying desparately hard not to see as a metaphor.

7. Sportivité - We have BMX, breakdancing, and skipping on a skate park designed to look like those exquisite French manicured lawns with topiary and everything. This is the section where they let the kids take charge; they dance in white outfits, Napoleon hats and Pierrot costumes; there are dancers with hoops and ribbons, skateboards and basketballs. No one thinks this is good except their parents. There is an opera singing breaker, an Algerian-French rapper (Rim'K) giving it large about how he doesn't want to be a super hero; just a super human, and lots of pretty light fountains. It actually all looks formidable from above with all the lights and the bridges lit with red, white and blue in strobe flashes. 

8. Festivité - Ok, now this is one of the maddest bits of the cermony. A large bloke looks like a smurf lying in the middle of a fruit platter, while a drag-queen/ transvestite cohort cavort around them. It is meant to represent a feast in the spirit of the gods of Olympus and blue guy is Dionysis, god of wine, winemaking, fertility, festivity, madness and theatre (we know how those things go together, right?). It is meant to celebrate the tolerance and inclusion of the games, but already people are outraged that is is mocking Christianity and taking a swipe at The Last Supper. I mean, it possibly is; after all, all myths are connested, n'est-ce pas? To a sort of Jean-Michel Jarre-esque vibe we then have a catwalk on the footbridge where models (many of whom have a disability for inclusion and so we can allude to the Paralympics) strut their stuff. The designers are emerging artists and apparently iconic pieces from the collection will be available after the ceremony. Of course the parcours dude gets a look in here as well. The spectators all then get up and dance on the bridge and everyone has a jolly time. 

9. Obscurité - The final countdown begins and as the stars of the European Union flag swirl around the Eiffel Tower, we get the banging beats of a techno dance part mixed with ballet. The house piano of Ride on Time and Be My Lover is throbbing through the city as 'caught up in the turmoil and faced with worries of the future, the young dance'. The theme of this opening ceremony is Ensemble unis pour la paix (we stand together and call for peace), which is apparently symbolised by a couple singing Imagine on a raft while their piano catches fire.

10. Solidarité - the parcours bloke is now on a metal horse with the Olympic flag which he parades down the middle of the river as if skimming across the water. With the glam rock music, the digital wings spreading out above the bridges, and the laser lighting effects, this bit is very impressive and it occurs to me that I have assumed the parcours chap is a chap, when in fact there is every possibility that they are Joan of Arc, or even the spirit of the Seine, Sequana. There is a tribute to former French Olympians and then many flag bearers carry their emblems beneath the Eiffel Tower. A real horse (with a rider) clip-clops across the bridge and a chivalric knight carries the Olympic flag up the steps onto an Eiffel-tower shaped stage. The flag is promptly raised and as it unfurls, it is noted that it is upside down. Oops. A choir sings the anthem of the Olympics (of course it has one) - the kids haven't got the words but the adults have and their sheet music is soaking.

11. Solemnité - A segment attempts to show where they are getting those bits of the Eiffel Tower from (still deeply concerning) and then men in blue suits do speeches and swear Olympic oaths. The parcours dude comes up through the floor (it wasn't them on the horse after all; still deeply confusing) and hands the torch to Zizou, who passes it off to Raffa (no, he's not French but he is 14x winner at Roland Garos). Lights roam up and down the Eiffel Tower, with beams and sweeping arcs, that structure looks like it's dancing. She is stunning and magnifique. Raffa takes the torch back off down the river while the iron giraffe parties on. He's on a boat with Serena Williams (trying to wave but looking very ill), Carl Lewis and Nadia Comăneci. Meanwhile, back on the Trocadero stage a dancer and sign language interpreter perform Marc Cerrone's Supernature, and then disappear through the trapdoor through which parcours dude arrived earlier. Now Amélie Mauresmo has the torch (tennis players are everywhere), then Tony Parker (basketball), before being joined by a trio of  Paralympic Champions, Nantenin Keita, Alexis Hanquinquant and Marie-Amélie Le Fur. 

12. Eternité - the torch makes its way through the Carrousel du Louvre forecourt, the Tuileries and the Arc de Triomphe, passing through hands very quickly (they get about ten seconds each before they fall into a formation) and continue to a big balloon. The final leg of the relay is taken by Charles Coste, a French Olympic champion who was part of the cycling team pursuit in 1948. Born in 1924 (the year Paris last held the Olympics) the centurian is the oldest living French Olympic champion. He lights the torches of Teddy Rinner (judo) and Marie-José Pérec (sprinter) who light the cauldron, a ring of many LEDs and high pressure water sprays, which make the hydrogen-gas filled balloon rise into the night sky. It's tethered so it doesn't float off, and the French are very proud that it is the first Olympic cauldron to light up without the use of fossil fuels. The balloon is a nod to French inventors (particularly the Montgolfier brothers), and the spirit of daring and creativity. 

Epilogue - Céline Dion belts out a version of Edith Piaf's Hyme à l'amour from Level One of the Eiffel Tower. It's a stunning performance, note perfect with shades of Evita, and then it's all over. You're welcome.

People Matter: Keeping Bad Company

Keeping Bad Company by Ann Granger

Headline

Pp. 311

This Fran Varady Crime Novel is the second in the series. The reader is clearly expected to have some knowledge of the character, but the novel stands up even without it. Fran is an out-of-work actor living in squats and having run-ins with police. “I knew enough to keep clear of trouble. I can’t help it if trouble sometimes seeks me out.” She has an Indian friend, Ganesh, a decent set of morals, firm opinions, a sardonic outlook on life, and occasional flashes of humour. As the novel is narrated from the first-person perspective, the reader is naturally drawn to her.

While waiting at a station she buys a cup of coffee for a homeless man, Albie, who tells her he witnessed a kidnapping. She believes him, although no one else seems to, and when she decides to look more closely into the matter, Albie winds up dead. Fran senses she may be in danger herself as she meets kidnappers, ransom hunters, distressed parents, and uninterested police officers. She quickly learns that no one trusts anyone else. She particularly doesn’t trust men, and their violence and intimidation are treated almost casually. 

She baldly asserts, “If you’re a young woman and live alone, as I did, the risk of a stalker hanging around the place is always there. They see you around the area, follow you home. Sometimes it gets no further than that. They get bored and seek out other prey. Or they get frightened off.” It is a depressing fact that she needs to know this information. “Noise is a weapon. If you can’t do anything else, yell. It disorientates, frightens, and above all, attracts outside attention.” We were all taught this as young women.

Her politics are socialist-leaning, and she despises those who can see no further than their comfortable lives. “It’s a fact that no matter how bad things are, they can always get worse. Beggars can’t be choosers they say, and I bet ‘they’ are comfortably housed.” Being an artistic and creative type, her motivations are less consumerist. They assume we all want the things our consumer society reckons essential to health and happiness. But what about the ability to find hope and happiness in little things?”

Her world is one of corner shops, basement flats, disused warehouses and greasy-spoon cafes. She refers to one of the pubs she frequents as “resolutely downmarket. That’s what its patrons like about it. Everywhere else around has been gentrified, yuppified or poncified. The term depends on whether you’re an estate agent or one of the Rose’s regulars.” Her language is generally straightforward with the occasional glimpse of imaginative prose.

This is an immediate environment and a likeable central character, who gets caught up in criminal acts through no fault of her own. There are seven books in the series of the Everywoman – I shall seek out more.

Friday Five: More Theatre

Lexi Sekuless as the prosecutor in Terror

1. Terror - Lexi Sekuless Productions, Mill Theatre on Dairy Road - This is a really interesting and interactive piece with audience voting on a jury decision. A pilot (played by Mark Lee, who can stand looking inscrutable for a long time) has shot down a plane full of hijacked passengers, on his own initiative and contrary to an official order. The lawyers arguing for the prosecution and defence (Lexi Sekuless and Tim Sekuless respectively) deliver convincing arguments and appeal to the audience directly. As the judge, Tracy Noble is inimitable in her summing up and control of the situation. Director Kim Beamish has a tight rein on the cast and the raw, industrial set, with expertly choregraphed moments representing the dramatic events and the claustrophobic atmosphere both of a targeted plane and a tense courtroom. 
2. Streetcar Named Desire - Free-Rain, ACT Hub - This is known as a vehicle for female actors to shine, and there is, indeed, great acting from the female leads, although the men have a little more issue being authentically oafish, and the ensemble is uneven, with some of the muttering being distracting rather than supportive of the main cast. Amy Kowalczuk as Blanche DuBois is one of the best Blanches I've ever seen. It's a vile role but she approaches it with depth and nuance. Fluttery hand gestures and quick movements highlight her stressed (bordering on neurotic) attitude. Her playful sister moment with Stella (Meaghan Stewart) is beautiful as a glimpse of what could have been. The switch to flirtation and girlishness powerfully shifts to predatory, and the moment when she realises she has lost everything and has no autonomy is frightening and heartbreaking. Alex Hoskison as Stanley Kowalski is powerful and wounded with an inner strength and plenty of charisma, but not brutish or disgusting enough. He doesn't play ignorant and always looks as though he has a plan, making him defensive rather than cruel. Meaghan Stewart as Stella is charming and convincingly caught between her man and her sister, wanting to do right by both and failing to please either. Her compassion and need shine through on stage with only occasional slips into the actor instead of the character, with accent and mannerisms. Lachlan Ruffy gives the character of Harold Mitchell more nuance than it often receives, wanting to be the gentleman and look after the vulnerable, but fiercely wounded when he thinks he has been duped. He is the real toxic male of this production. Sarah Hull's Eunice is a perfect antidote to the heightened situation of the downstairs flat - she is earthy and sensual, putting up with the situation and trying to find positives where she can, providing sympathy, understanding and compassion as a real good Southern neighbour should. The tight, cramped set implies the situation and environment well, although there are some issues with sightlines. The bathroom is such a large presence in the play that it could have been incorporated, and there is no obvious indication where Blanche is actually sleeping. Tennessee Williams has a very specific attitude to light expressing truth in his plays, which can be intrusive but works well here. Blanche says, 'I don't want realism. I want magic' and this is reflected in the chase light scene and the abrupt changes. As she is afraid of bright lights and prefers the softening glow, more shade and contrast could have been provided. Sound is very clear and obvious - perhaps too much so, as it comes in single chunks rather than spread throughout - but the nightmare tune ending in a gunshot is well played. 





3. American Idiot - Queanbeyan Players, The Q - It's a juke box musical with privileged young people trying desparately hard to be desparate and hard. Three wannabe incel lads (Johnny, Tunny and Will, played by John Whinfield, Darcy Kinsella and Zac Izzard) want to get out of town and have adventures, seeing women as handbrakes to their careering egos. As it is sung through, there are some strong songs (Holiday, Know Your Enemy, She's a Rebel, We Are the Waiting, and the titular track) but not a lot in between. The choreography seems very out of place and era (there is a lot of jumping, hand flicking and weird lurching, which is more reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Thriller than post-punk angst), whereas the inclusion of some older, steadying hands in the ensemble (I'm looking at you, David Cannell), may bring experience to the stage but their presence is questionable. A standout is Declan Pigram in the role of St Jimmy, a creepy, sunglasses-wearing dealer who is revealed to be a drug-addled manifestation of Johnny's subconscious (occasionally portrayed by Green Day's lead singer and guitarist, Billie Joe Armstrong). It doesn't really matter what the audience feel as this is paean to the fans and the friends; the cast all have a fantastic time (and I'm sure they all think they look cute in their costumes - they do), as is exemplified by them draping their arms around each other in the high-school-esque final number/ curtain call, Good Riddance (Time of Your Life). This is a passion project for director, Bradley McDowell, and I like the laughably faux-punk Green Day just fine, but this doesn't add anything to my appreciation of the band or their music.
4. Crime and Punishment - The Street, Street Two - In this claustrophobic production, Christopher Samuel Carroll plays the anti-hero of Dostoyevsky's novel with a range of emotion that compels the audience to side with him at times despite his heinous deed. His vocal and physical presentations cover a gamut of feelings and experiences that are quite exquisite. PJ Williams is remarkably phlegmatic as the inspector who goads his friend/ confidant/ suspect into a confession (come on - no one can accuse this of spoilers since the seminal work of psychological fiction was first published in 1866). Josephine Gazzard is perhaps the weak link as she plays all the female characters, some with a lack of focus and a listlessness that threatens to derail the play. The adaptation by Marilyn Campbell-Lowe and Curt Columbus condenses the towering novel into a mere 90 minutes, which could have been even more taut if Sonia, the street-walker character, had more impetus and energy. Designer Kathleen Kershaw has given us levels and surfaces to consider, with the idea of self-reflection never far from the surafce.
5. The Woman in Black - PW Productions, Woodward Productions & Neil Gooding Productions, Canberra Theatre Centre - The play relies upon actors who elicit empathy and technical elements that create suspense. Fortunately, this production has all that in spades. John Waters plays Arthur Kipps, the narrator of the story, complete with framing device, and proceeds to assume all the other parts with aplomb. Daniel Macpherson acts out the story that Waters narrates, as the young Arthur Kipps, and the unreliable narrator trope weaves in and out of the production with fascinating and thoroughly engaging stagecraft. The set is sparse (designer - Michael Holt), allowing the audience to picture the scenes as described in their imagination, the lighting is effective (Kevin Sleep) and the sound dramatic (Sebastian Frost). The rocking chair that rocks by itself; the door that opens with no-one there; the galloping horse and the sudden jump scares are all genuinely scary. Director, Robin Herford has given us a wonderfully atmospheric piece of theatre, which is worth going out in the cold to experience.

Against All Odds: In Memoriam

In Memoriam by Alice Winn

Viking (2023)

Pp. 375

In Memoriam is reminiscent of Atonement and Testament of Youth as it covers the doomed generation of young men who went to war and never returned, either because they were killed or changed irrevocably. Also discernible are elements of Pat Barker’s Ghost Road novel, wherein, like the WWI poetry we all studied in school with the benefit of hindsight and distance, we can plot the way innocence, ideology and excitement turned to disgust, betrayal, anger and frustration. Our characters transform from schoolboys worried about their families and duty to wounded and embittered cynics whose promise was destroyed by a class system into which they had no input. And at its heart it is a love story between Gaunt and Ellwood, two young men coming of age in a time when homosexuality was still illegal.

Winn writes in linear style, with sharp, clear sentences, avoiding excessive adjectives, but with a profoundly moving poetry. Beginning in a public school, the use of last names and lack of sentiment suggests a world of staunch young classically educated men with notions of empire and glory. Word of the deaths begins to reach the schoolboys back in England – those who hadn’t lied about their age to sign up – and are reported in their school newspaper, The Preshutian. The reports begin cheerily: every man killed dies ‘gallantly in battle’ with a smile and a quip, proud to serve his country. Later, after The Somme, there are just lists of the dead, and the commentary becomes much more sombre. “After the calamity of the past four years, we look to the future with hope, determined to make Cyril’s sacrifice, and that of a thousand others, count towards a lasting harmony in Europe. Let us, like the soldiers of Waterloo, have our century of peace and prosperity, for we have paid for it in blood.”

The irony of hindsight brings poignancy to scenes and situations. “Loos hung over them, a word he felt sure would someday have black meaning, but now was only a whisper of dread in his stomach.” There are echoes of Blackadder Goes Forth in the trench talk, where there is resentment of the upper class automatically being made officers and promoted to captains, having authority over men much older and more experienced than them. One character exclaims bitterly, “My school didn’t train me to rule an empire”, and when he is told they are more realistically losing an empire, another character interjects, “What rot! Losing the empire – look at how the Gurkhas fight! They love England just as much as we do, anyone can see that.” Meanwhile the men are falling without class distinction in a horrifically mundane manner. “At nine, they went over the top. West’s head was shot off before they had gone two feet. Elwood paused to look at his brains. Pritchard had always said he didn’t have any, but there they were, grey and throbbing and clotted with blood.”

Poetry is present in the straightforward descriptions of the terrain, “The rain came down in ropes. They climbed quietly out of the trenches and crawled through the poisonous, corpse-studded No Man’s Land. It was usually silent, but tonight, the thousands of wounded groaned like a ship in a storm.” The situation becomes so surreal that there is no equivalent behaviour. “They did not even run, but plodded to their deaths, like – There was no comparison. No animal on earth would have suffered it. No creature would walk so knowingly, so hopelessly into the jaws of death.”

The section set in a prisoner of war camp is almost a comic diversion. “It’s astonishing how well an English boarding school prepares one for prison.” All the prisoners are bored, chatty and trying to escape, while the guards are generally good-natured and long-suffering. “The men spent their time galloping around the dining hall, antagonising the guards, reading and rereading Adam Bede, and, most notably, plotting elaborate escapes.” They are happy to assist each other, as Gaunt notes, “It was much easier to be brave for your friends than for yourself.”

After years of erotically-charged friendship, Gaunt and Ellwood finally admit their love for each other. “A sudden, dry bleakness spread over Gaunt’s heart as he thought of Hercules and Hector, and all the heroes in myth who found happiness briefly, only for it not to be the end of the story.” Gaunt and Ellwood are subsequently separated and assume each other’s death, yet love persists despite all, in a romance like that in The Bronze Horseman by Paullina Simons. As in The Imitation Game, men who fought for their country are not accepted there due to their sexuality, so many of them leave and go to Brazil. “Gaunt thought of the darkling plain, of skating in the winter, of crunching over frosted grass early in the morning, of bluebell meadows in spring. There was nothing he wanted more than to spend the rest of his life on Wiltshire country lanes, Elwood at his side. It was what he had fought for, what his friends had died for.”

In Memoriam is Alice Winn’s debut novel. It may not be an original topic, but it is excellently written. She writes captivatingly about things of which she can have no first-hand experience: life in the trenches, male sex, and English public schools with a ring of authenticity. I look forward to her next offering.