Another year, another doom and gloom report for the state of Australian arts.
I’m writing this before the box office wrap up reports have been written, but at a glance, it’s obvious that Australian films genuinely failed to make any impact at all at the Australian box office. The highest grossing Australian film was Ride Like a Girl, the ‘feel good’ horse racing flick that resonated with some audiences to the tune of over $10m, pushing it safely near the top of the highest grossing Australian films of all time. Elsewhere, Top End Wedding and the Storm Boy remake made a sizeable impact with about $5m each.
But these are indie figures, almost chump change in comparison to the big name feature films landing in Australian cinemas. To give an idea of how average this kind of return is, the latest Jumanjiflick has made over $20m in Australia alone, and that’s considered a box office dud. That’s after a Boxing Day release. Ride Like a Girl kicked on at the box office for over a month before it managed to make its entire box office haul.
Yet, with over 40 Australian films released theatrically via full run or limited releases, it’s more apparent than ever that Australian films are struggling to gain audience attention. Finger pointing is an easy game to play, with many naysayers saying that the quality isn’t there, or that the market appeal for Australian content doesn’t exist. I can easily point at my own ‘Best Australian Films’ lists as a way of saying that hey, the quality is there, and I can easily engage in further finger pointing where I go on about how the market might be interested if they knew that these films existed.
The hard to swallow truth is the fact that Australian arts is being abandoned by the government, and equally, the moderately archaic ways that cinemas are run in Australia has long rejected the ability for Australian films (which have, by their nature, inherently become ‘small’ entities) to flourish.
I’ll dive into that second point first, because for many, the cinema is still the desired place for their film to screen. If you’re a filmmaker, you’ve likely grown up dreaming of having your film projected in your local theatre, with your hometown coming to see your story being played for all. But the changing theatrical and streaming landscape means that that dream has to be reluctantly discarded.
It’s no secret that it’s becoming a global challenge for films to find footing at the box office when going up against the never-ending onslaught of Disney-content, with other major studios attempting to gain a small slice of that box office glory. In 2019, France had one of their most successful box office years yet, but it was Hollywood content that reigned king. In China, Hollywood films are less successful, with home grown content earning the lions share.
So, this is not a uniquely Australian problem, but Australian cinemas do need to start to adjust to the new world, and quickly. Australian cinema owners and operators are still defending and working to retain the traditional 90-day window release for films, and while the difficult discussion about how to retain the cinema going experience rages on, this restrictive practice needs to be addressed first of all. There was much hot air created over the short theatrical releases given to Netflix titles like The Irishman and Marriage Story, but when they played in the cinemas that would play them, they did well. Locally speaking, The Irishman continued to gain audiences at Perth’s The Backlot Theatre, with some driving for hours to come watch the film. Even when it landed on Netflix, it was still pulling an audience.
This is not an exclusive Netflix issue, and again, it’s not an exclusive Australian issue either. Amazon Studios gave short theatrical runs to Brittany Runs a Marathon and The Report, before shifting them on to their streaming service for all to access. The conditioning of audiences to expect a ‘big screen’ experience means that films like Brittany Runs a Marathon and Marriage Story are less enticing for cinema attending audiences. They’re talkies, drama focused, lacking the same visual theatrics that make up the majority of the blockbusters out there. These films thrived in the seventies and eighties, topping box offices and creating their own buzz, but that was almost forty years ago, and this is now. Audiences expect more from their entertainment, and that includes being delivered a high quality at home on demand.
The golden age of films is over, and we’re now in the golden age of television. For people who want the experience that Marriage Story delivers, they can get that, plus a lot more through shows like The Affair. Or maybe they loved the dark comedy of The Big Short? Well, head on over to HBO for Succession. But, if you’re in Australia, your prime avenue for Australian content is going to be the ABC, Foxtel, or Stan. You’ve got Total Control, or Lambs of God, or No Activity. All well received, all well-loved, and all Australian. No wonder Australian audiences are staying at home.
Which is why the push for that 90-day theatrical window needs to go. It simply isn’t feasible in todays landscape. Given that many small films are gone from screens within a fortnight, or if they’re lucky, a month, it makes little sense to try reject a potential small box office earning at the expense of a longer window. Yes, Disney does create massively restrictive contracts for cinemas wanting to screen their films, which is – again – a global issue, but they also create films that people crave and see over and over again. They are the big earners for cinemas. Blockbusters used to operate as tentpoles, allowing smaller films to exist under the guise of having their financial success or failure being supported by a financially stable film. But, the concept of tentpoles no longer exists, making it harder for smaller films from all around the world to find a footing.
Film festival director Richard Sowada wrote at length about the cinema experience and the future of cinemas back in 2017, asking ‘What’s Wrong with Cinemas?’ In that great piece, Richard suggests that the future of cinemas could be through the support of film festivals. I want to stress, there’s no fear of cinemas disappearing – there’s something unique about that experience – but given the reliance on box office receipts, and how much they factor into what films are made, their existence is still vitally important.
So, we come to the case of Justin Kurzel’s True History of the Kelly Gang, a star studded flick that was poised to potentially bring in some box office glory in 2020, but instead, it’s getting a short 18 day window in cinemas before dropping on Stan on January 26th. I know I’ve just talked about the reduction of the 90-day window, and arguably, Kurzel’s flick fits that mould perfectly, but just under three weeks from cinema to streaming for a major film like this feels… not right.
That 90-day window exists to drive people to cinemas, but 18 days feels too short, too restrictive, making the push to go to a cinema feel irrelevant when the film will be available at home in less than three weeks. If this trend continues for Australian films, then they will start to feel tokenistic, and less Australian audiences will pay to see Australian films in cinemas, causing more films to get lost in the gloop of the overwhelming cinematic shuffle. If this is what’s happening with bigger budget, bigger profile Australian films like Kelly Gang, then what hope do your microbudget films like Hot Mess or Suburban Wildlife have?
When I published my top films of 2019 lists, one of the complaints I received was that I had included films that simply weren’t available to wide audiences. One of my favourite films of 2019 was It All Started with a Stale Sandwich, Samantha Lang’s documentary about public art. It screened for all of about two seconds in theatres around Australia, and it was only because I’m tapped into the Australian film industry that I was aware it existed. Yet, dig even further and you’d be hard pressed to find people who were aware that a third Red Dog film came out, or that Australia had a surplus of exceptional comedies.
Those same theatres that rejected The Irishmanare absolutely going to reject True History of the Kelly Gang, forcing these films into niche, boutique cinemas, and maybe that’s where Australian films will flourish, in small arthouse theatres with short runs. But what works for Scorsese may not work for Kurzel and co. There have been countless Australian films that have tried the limited run/one-off screening format and failed, with more than a handful of them giving the format a stab in 2019. Sure, it has worked in the past, with films like The Mule finding moderate success with a unique release, and other Australian films finding success at genre festivals like MonsterFest.
But is Stan the future of Australian cinema? Is this the last frontier that it'll die on? With the increased presence of Netflix and Disney+ in Australia, the question of quotas is raised once again. The Australian government has stated that they’re going to look at this and will release a paper in ‘early 2020’ in how to best support Australian content going forward. More on that later on.
Marcus Gillezeau wrote for Inside Film in 2019 about how Aussie producers and filmmakers might best tackle the rise of the streaming giants, and in it he alludes to how best to move forward, with large-scale productions being made in Australia. It’s not too dissimilar to the production of Marvel and DC superhero films being made in Australia, but what differentiates the two is how streaming services are more open to having varied stories being told. One just has to look at the massive production of AppleTV’+s Shantaram and Netflix’s Clickbaitto see that Australian productions are happening, and they are going to get a wide audience, it’s just happening a little bit slowly.
If you’re tapped into the Australian film discussion on Facebook, then you can’t go a moment without seeing Ron Brown pop up and mention OzFlix, a noble on demand service for Australian films, but depressingly, the discussion about OzFlix rarely comes from anyone otherthan Ron. It’s a good service, but the reach is low, and unfortunately, the hyper-niche nature of Australian films (I hate saying that, but it’s unfortunately true) means that its market impact is also low.
Fortunately, places like SBS and commercial TV still find homes for Australian films, with Ted Wilson’s Under the Cover of Cloud being a prime example of a top notch Aussie film finding a home on an Australian tellie service.
If we look internationally, we see filmmakers like Jim Cummings working to subvert the theatrical release experience with his self-funded, self-distributed film Thunder Road. Sure, it wasn’t breaking box office records, but he pushed hard and got it out there. Which is where modern filmmakers are faced with a massive challenge compared to the past. Making a film is like running a small business, you have to push hard to make sure people know it exists and to get audiences to see it.
I look at filmmakers like Genevieve Bailey who made one of the most important films of 2019, Happy Sad Man. She travelled the film all around Australia (quite literally) running Q&A sessions at each screening and pushing the word about the film as hard as she could. The social media profiles for the film were alight with posts about where the film was screening, how to watch it, encouraging folks to head along and catch the film while they could.
Then I look at producers like Lauren Elliott, who launched her company Galactic Baby in 2019 and has already helped usher in some ridiculously exciting new talent into the Australian arts landscape, with filmmakers like Alison James (Judas Collar) and Dan and Luke Riches (KGB). The way Lauren is subverting the traditional arts methods of creating ‘content’ is impressive. She’s looking forward and seeing what can be done with the film format, how it can be morphed and changed for the future, and it’s through short films and web series that that is occurring. The bite sized format that these stories are presented helps make them easy to digest. Sure, you’ve consumed a whole series in less than half an hour, but the key thing is that you’ve just engaged with some Australian content.
Then there’s people like Matt Eeles and Jasmine Leivers who are creating a whole new festival specifically dedicated to West Aussie films – WA Made Film Festival. There’s no one more dedicated to the cause of Australian cinema than Matt Eeles, and he’s putting his time and money where his heart is and getting behind it in one heck of an astounding way. It’s people like Matt who will be part of the forefront of the ‘new Australian cinema’ scene.
This is part of the reason that the ‘quota’ conversation feels like surface level redundancy. The Australian film industry isn’t dying. It’s thriving in ways that many probably never expected, with everything from microbudget films, to documentaries, to short films, to web series, all flourishing. The concept of what constitutes an Australian ‘film’ needs to be adjusted, with the scope being widened substantially to encompass all permeations of ‘filmed material’. One can easily envisage a future where television and film and web series all become one, living and thriving under the banner of ‘filmed content’.
Those filmmakers, producers, and festival planners are all working with a core goal in mind – to create, nurture, and support Australian content as best as possible. The pressure of Disney and co is still there, but the existence and vitality of the Lauren Elliott’s, the Matt Eeles’, the Genevieve Bailey’s of the world show that that pressure is not taking a toll. They’re forging forward earnestly, and we need more of those kinds of people.
When I sat down to write this piece, I had the notion that Australian cinema is fucked in my mind, and I’m an optimistic pessimist at heart, so while I’m still sure it’s not going to be great, I am also aware that it’s not going to be completely horrible either.
With that in mind, let’s transition from cinemas and streaming to the other major issue that arose during 2019.
The Federal governments decision to simply abandon Australian arts by ‘merging’ (honestly, the word looks innocuous and polite, but if you’ve ever driven in Australia, you would know that we’re aggressive and horrible mergers) the Department of Communications and the Arts with Transport, Infrastructure and Regional development. So, the ‘Arts’ no longer exists. It’s a non-entity in this governments eye.
Now, before I dig into this, I’m going to just vomit a bunch of links that’ll help add context to what I’m going to say. A lot of this has already been discussed at large by the Australian arts community, and they’ve said it better than I could, so here goes:
Inside Film – Industry guilds decry government snub to arts and fear further funding cuts
The Conversation – Remember the arts? Departments and budgets disappear as politics backs culture into a dead end
SBS News – ‘Massive backwards step’: Australia to no longer have a federal arts department
SBS – Australia’s “she’ll be right” attitude won’t save our arts industry, Osman Faruqi
The Curb – Oi, Cobber, where’s your Aussie pride for Aussie films?
The Monthly – Culture crisis, Alison Croggon
ArtsHub – Department of Arts axed in government power play
7News – Fears Australia’s film and television history could be lost forever
The Canberra Times – National Film and Sound Archive staff head for the exit with voluntary redundancies
Ok, so besides the fact that I linked myself in that bunch of articles, hopefully you’ve gleaned as to why the effective dissolution of the Department of Arts is a horrifying event.
In 2019, I visited Canberra for the third time in my life. This time, I went with the love and admiration I have for Australian politics. I know I rage against the government quite often, but I do so because I adore (yep, I’m using the word ‘adore’ to describe my interest in politics) the Australian political system. When I visited Parliament House, I went on two different tours of the building, both times I left in awe at the pure artistry that went into the construction of Australia’s house. The entire design of the building was implemented with immense thought and detail as to how the building would be used and presented to the public.
Simply put, it is one of the finest art installations in Australia.
The walls are adorned in some of the most glorious, overwhelming works of art that I’ve ever seen. Fantastic paintings and tapestries reflect and embrace the essence of Australia, honouring the first nations people while also embracing the varied Australian landscape. If you ever get the chance, it is a wonderful sight to behold, one that helps reinforce why I fell in love with Australia.
See, when you’re born, and you grow up, you have to learn to love the country you live in. It’s merely expected that you have to embrace it completely because it’s where you came into existence, but for me that wasn’t the case. I needed to know why I could and should love Australia. I was grateful that my Scottish grandmother was able to guide my love for Australia by raising me on Australian films. One of the earliest films I recall watching with her was Breaker Morant. I must have been eight at the time, and it was through this film and her explanation as to why the story it tells was important. The Sum of Us, Babe, Crocodile Dundee, Strictly Ballroom, and so many more, became my diet growing up.
We watched them together, fell in love with them together, reinforcing our affection for Australia through its movies. For me, it was learning to love my home. For my grandmother, it was appreciating the place she decided to come raise her family.
When I was nine, my family and I drove around Australia, and it was then that I saw Parliament House for the first time. In the great hall, Arthur Boyd’s tapestry adorns the wall, covering it from floor to ceiling. It’s one of the finest pieces of art Australia houses, reflecting the deep bush that makes up much of Australia’s forest. You can easily get lost in the tapestry, looking for the gap between the trees, or Haley’s comet, or a bird. It’s a pure reflection of Australia, and its existence encourages people to consider Australia’s nature.
This is what art does, it encourages reflection, admiration, love, affection, and consideration for the country that it is born within. Great art responds to the time it was created, and it work to reinforce the history of the country that it was made within.
I write about Australian film because it’s my avenue to loving a country that I so frequently find myself angry, frustrated, upset with and deeply horrified by. I write about it because if I don’t, then I’m not sure how I would manage to accept living in a place where we have a leader who outwardly rejects climate change, who actively employs policies that harm asylum seekers, who voted against marriage equality and is a vocal opponent to LGBTIQ+ rights, and so much more.
So when the Australian government comes along and removes the one department that exists to ensure that the arts lives and thrives in Australia, well, it feels like a personal attack. No just a personal attack to me, but to all that work in the arts. This is not just film, but theatre, performance art, music, public art.
This shouldn’t come as a surprise given how much the Prime Minister goes on about sport, assuming that every Australian simply must love cricket or rugby. Yes, we are a sports interested country, but that’s not all that we live for.
And, furthermore, it shouldn’t be a surprise given the excessive cuts over the past decade that have hit Australian arts. The amount of articles about cuts to the NFSA outnumbers articles from the archive itself. In 2019, remaining funds were used for redundancies, adding more stress to the small team of twenty people who help to transfer and archive decades of Australian film and television history. The tapes and reels that are there face irreparable deterioration by 2025, and when that happens, who knows how much important Australian history will be lost.
With audiences not turning out for Australian films, and many failing to see the importance of buying and supporting Australian arts, the struggle for Australian arts to exist and thrive, and in turn, Australia’s culture to continue building Australia’s legacy and history, simply becomes an almost insurmountable challenge.
So much for having a go and getting go, right?
While the Australian arts needs as much support as possible right now, there is an ethical concern that is being raised in regards to financing. The Perth Fringe Festival is coming up, and a sizeable chunk of the funding for it comes from mining organisations. Given how left leaning the festival is, it’s understandable that a group of 250 Fringe World artists and climate activists have campaigned for the festival to dump these organisations.
The ethical quandary is raised here where artists want a venue to put their art on display, yet, due to low funding from the government, low ticket prices, and questionable attendance levels, where else are you going to get funding for festivals like Fringe World than from massive organisations that have money to spare? In Australia, we’re desperately lacking in philanthropists who have millions to spare and can fund whatever arts projects they desire. Where’s a down under Megan Ellison when you need them?
The Rational Fear episode of Tom Ballard’s podcast Like I’m a Six-Year-Old showcased this problem in action. Funded and supported by the Queensland government, and run during the inaugural Climate Week, the crew of comedians performing A Rational Fear were advised that they couldn’t name a certain mining organisation by name. Given this was funded by the Queensland government, they couldn’t be seen to be funding dissent for the Adani mine.
Then what happens when the money comes from the mining organisation itself then? I’m not sure, but given there are precious few left leaning major organisations in Australia, and there are precious few organisations actively financing and supporting the arts, it’s very possible that this may be the difficult path forward for the time being until we have a change of government that actively respects and recognises the value of Australian arts.
Which leads me to the final point. We, the people of Australia, have to show our support for the Australian arts in every way we can. If we are going to value Australian art, films, television, music, theatre, games, and more, then we have to #MakeItAustralian. We have to be more vocal than we’ve ever been before.
If you’ve ever said, I should go and see more Australian films, then make 2020 the year that you go on the opening weekend to see an Australian film. Follow websites like Inside Film and Cinema Australia. Talk about Australian films, talk about Australian music, go and see them with your family and friends. Go to the theatre. Buy your favourite bands merchandise. Buy Australian films on physical media. Visit the art gallery. Buy Australian art. Buy Australian video games.
Additionally, if you have friends overseas, encourage them to engage with Australian arts. Get them excited about what’s being produced here in Australia. A sizeable chunk of great Australian films are celebrated more overseas than they are here, and if there’s a clear appetite from international audiences and communities, then maybe the funding bodies here will encourage more investment in Australian arts.
The harsh and cold fact is that as the cuts from governments continue, the Australian arts industry is being left out in the cold. We can no longer rely on the government to recognise the value and importance of Australian art. We have to show and remind the community why Australian culture is vitally important. Why it is essential.
Because when it’s gone, there certainly won’t be a painter to outline the art we once had, or a musician to sing a mournful song for us all, or a filmmaker to remind us of what we once had. Instead, there’ll just be dirt, dust, and cricket. And what kind of future is that?