Thursday
Nothing much to report from Thursday.
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A White, White Day
“I’ve been there in Iceland when it was like that”, I whispered in the ear of my friend as we watched the film, “A White, White Day”. “You were there in winter, weren’t you?”, she asked to which I replied, “No it was summer. But there were still four seasons in the one day”.
Some of the earliest scenes in the film show people driving along remote roads in Iceland, where the line between the land and the sky blur. It’s all white, it’s all grey.
Those road trips are pivotal to the film, as that’s where one of the lead characters comes to an untimely death.
There was an interesting parralel between this film, and the last film I’d seen, “Bellbird”. In both cases, the death of the wife and mother brings about re-evaluation by those left behind, and a series of relationship changes. However, the gentle evolution of relationships found in “Bellbird” is contrasted with the drama of the experiences of those in “A White, White Day”.
There were times when I had to look away. There were some moments of uncomfortable violence. There were moments when you thought the film would go into a much deeper, darker space.
Though “slow” for a while, the film picks up pace towards the end. On top of the cinematography (which is beautiful), the acting and direction are wonderful. In particular, there’s a standout performance by a young actor in the role of the grand-daughter. “Could she look any more Icelandic?”, my friend whispered, referring to her blonde hair and blue eyes.
Despite the darker moments, it was a really enjoyable film, and once which my friend and I both enjoyed. We were both looking forward to the film very much, as we had previously seen the film “Hrutar” / “Rams”, also from Iceland, and also from the same director.
“They punch above their weight”, my friend commented about Icelandic culture more generally. In movies, in music and culture, Iceland has produced some amazing material in recent years.
The Chaser’s Giant Dwarf
“In the last twelve months two of the institutions I’ve given so much of my life and passion to have disappointed me deeply”, was the most memorable line from Kristina Keneally last night. The former NSW Premier was one of three guests for the “live chat show”, “The Empty Vessell” put by on by The Chaser at their new theatre venue, The Giant Dwarf on Cleveland Street.
Although there were a few moments when she went into “former politician mode”, I thought she was, for the most part, candidly honest. For example, when asked to comment on the current corruption hearing in NSW, she said she never had time for Eddie Obeid, but that she thought she KNEW Joe Tripodi and Tony Kelly, and seemed disappointed in what’s currently occurring.
“For every Eddie Obeid, you have to remember there was a Carmel Tebbutt, a Verity Firth, a John Watkins”, she went on to say, arguing there were still lots of good people in the Labor Party.
“You forgive the Catholic Church for some things, but not the child abuse”, she went on to say about the other institution she said had disappointed in the last twelve months.
Maybe it was the glass or two of red wine she enjoyed as she sat on the stage that resulted in the candidness? Or maybe she’s reached the point where she doesn’t feel the need to justify everything the former NSW Labor Government did and didn’t do? She was unequivocal about NEVER returning to a political life.
The other two guests were Norrie May-Welby and John Watson.
Norrie was the person who recently won a case in the High Court to be formally recognised as “non-specific gender”. Whenever I’ve seen Norrie speak in the past there’s always been a bit of showbiz about the presentation style, as it’s usually been at a rally or something like that. Speaking/shouting in public isn’t usually conducive to honest reflection, which is what I saw last night. I always thought Norrie was slightly crazy, but have now developed a new found respect.
John Watson was the founder of boutique record label Eleven Music, whose artists include Gotya, Cold Chisel, Missy Higgins, silverchair, Daniel Johns, Birds of Tokyo. Of the three guests, he was the least interesting for me. Although I was really interested in the subject matter, I felt he was a little “rehearsed”. There seemed to be a lot of answers or anecdotes he had given previously which disappointed me a little.
Half was through the night there was also a really fantastic comic performance by an actor, writer and director I’d never heard of before called Nick Coyle @nickcoyles. Magic stuff.
Over the course of about two hours, it was really good to sit in a large theatre along with a couple of hundred people to enjoy some really good conversations, with intelligence and humour combining throughout. I’ll definitely be heading back some time in the future.
Lismore Scenes
With many thanks to my relative, Peter, a bunch of black and white family photographs from the 1960s.
I’d never seen these photographs before until Pete sent them through a few days, part of the collection of his late mother.
They were all taken in the house where I was born, at 21 Kyogle Street, South Lismore.
Retrospective “Cool”
It’s a phenomenon I’ve observed with increasing amusement, particularly among my peers who, like me, are nudging the big 6-0. Suddenly, it seems everyone has always possessed an impeccably cool, cutting-edge taste in music, films, and books. This newfound (or perhaps, newly admitted) sophistication has been especially noticeable with the recent flurry of “Hottest 100” posts making the rounds from Triple J.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I wholeheartedly believe that tastes mature and develop over time. What we listen to, watch, and read in our youth often evolves as we gain new experiences, broaden our horizons, and are exposed to different influences. It’s natural for our preferences to shift from the bubblegum pop of our teenage years to more complex or nuanced genres as we age. Growth is good, and it’s wonderful to see people exploring new artistic avenues.
But there’s a particular flavour of this evolution that tickles me: the retrospective cool. It’s the almost instantaneous rewrite of personal history, where past dalliances with the decidedly un-hip are conveniently erased. Suddenly, the same people who swore allegiance to the likes of ABBA and the Bay City Rollers (for the girls) or Sherbet and AC/DC (for the boys) are now posting their “lifelong” love for obscure indie bands or avant-garde cinema.
Take my own relationship with ABBA, for instance. Growing up in Australia, they were undeniably cool in the mid-70s. You couldn’t escape “Mamma Mia” or “Dancing Queen.” Then, as the 80s dawned, they became the very definition of uncool, “daggy” even. Owning an ABBA record was social suicide. Fast forward to 1994, and suddenly, thanks to Muriel’s Wedding, they were cool again, a symbol of kitsch Australian pride. And then, well, the cycle seemed to repeat itself.
My point is, “cool” is a constantly shifting target, and our memories often adjust to fit the prevailing winds.
It’s as if, with the passage of time and the benefit of hindsight, we can all collectively decide to be the person who always appreciated the underground and the unconventional. The beauty of this retrospective rebrand is that it’s almost impossible to disprove. Who’s going to pull out our old cassette tapes or dusty diaries to fact-check our claims of early artistic discernment?
This phenomenon extends beyond individual memory, too. Have you noticed how many “hits and memories” radio stations in Australia currently play songs that were, frankly, never actually popular here at all? It’s as if certain international tracks, deemed “classics” elsewhere, have been retroactively implanted into our national consciousness. They fit the nostalgic vibe, so they get airplay, even if they barely scraped the bottom of the charts (or never charted!) back in the day. It’s a collective act of retrospective curation, reshaping our musical past to align with a more palatable, universally “cool” narrative.
Perhaps it’s a form of aspiration, a desire to align our past selves with the person we’ve become, or perhaps the person we wish we’d been. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s simply a bit of harmless fun, a collective wink and a nod to the fact that while our tastes may indeed have evolved, the journey there was probably a little less “cool” than we now care to admit.
What do you think?
Latest TV Appearance
You know how I mentioned Damien and I went to see The Chaser being taped? “I’ll bet you they ask me to move”, I said to Damien at one point early in the evening. “Bald heads” don’t look good on television”, I told him. As it turns out, they DIDN’T ask us to move. And despite our initial concerns about being in the front row, we didn’t end up looking so bad as part of the “opener” to this week’s show. Aside from capturing that via iview, it was a reasonably interesting and eventful day. There’s a bit of movement at work at the moment which is always very interesting.
And then after work I caught up with Mark who is visiting from Perth. Mark used to live in Perth, and then lived in Sydney, and now he’s back in Perth, though thinking of returning to Sydney or maybe to Melbourne, depending on job opportunities. Though we had planned to meet at the Strawberry Hills Hotel, we decided against that, as they appear to have refurbished the place significantly. “When did that happen?”, Mark asked to which I replied it must have only been in the last couple of weeks. We had hoped to have one of their great, cheap steak meals. A sign inside the pub, however, urged everyone to the nearby Shakespeare Hotel. When we noticed, however, how busy that was, we moved to the nearby Clarendon Hotel (formerly O-Bar) which does an equally nice, good value steak for $10. After dinner, and as the “atmospheric singer” in the corner of the pub got louder and louder, we retired upstairs.
Upstairs they have some very comfortable lounges which we comfortably settled into for a couple of drinks and a chat. Not far from us was a group of young folk – maybe a birthday party? – who seemed to have control of the music system. Lots of Michael Jackson.
