No Secrets

Well kids the real journey has almost begun! I am now in Amsterdam and in just a week and a half I will start my Binger workshop experience.

As I had originally set this up to be a blog about filmmaking rather than me whipping out snide one liners about Jackie Collins and the check-out whores at Qantas, I've decided to start things off with some observations from the Screen Australia party in Berlin. I should preface this by stating that this trip is being funded by Screen Australia so it's pretty damn unlikely that I'm going to criticize them so those of you wanting to read a "filmmaker gets the boot stuck into the funding bodies" article should go elsewhere. I'm sure you'll find something on ScreenHub. Just kidding, ScreenHub. You guys are lovely. Have yourselves a shandy.

I always find industry parties a little awkward. I don't really know that many industry types and it's always a gamble going up to strangers. Will you score somebody interesting or will you be lumped with a pretentious git? It's a little like Russian Roulette and I don't like to gamble - it compromises my Christianity (just like dissing people on the internet). And the last time I drank at one of those things Sigrid Thornton ended up walking into a wall in her attempts to get away from me and my friends and I almost floored Bruce Beresford. So I avoid the demon drink. Instead I normally eat my weight in canapes and RedBull my way through the night until my heart's pumping in 16/8 time.

Luckily there was a showcase of forthcoming films for 2009 which they called Radar. This of course prompted a lot of Under The Radar jokes which went down like the Titanic. They proudly announced that over 30 new Australian features would be released this year (Yep! We heard the public's cry for more Australian films and we delivered!!) and we received a DVD with a trailer for each of them. It really hammered home the importance of marketing for me. So many films don't seem to get how vital a good trailer is these days, particularly with people plastering them all over YouTube, MySpace, Facebook and whatever website the kids are idolising these days. There was one film in particular that I've been quite eagerly awaiting as it's based on a very interesting true crime case in Australian history that could work a treat on film. But the trailer sucked all the fun out of that one, didn't it?

Another film that I was eagerly awaiting was Ana Kokkinos' Blessed. I was a huge fan of Head On and found Book Of Revelation to be more than a little underwhelming. Hell - when you pay to see a rock show you want a rock show! And silhouetted fellatio scenes do not a rock show make. And if you're going to have a pretentious ballet mistress, you could at least give her a wacky Russian accent so we've got something to entertain us. So with Blessed I was hoping that Kokkinos might be pulling a Richard Linklater (i.e. one good film, one bad film, one good film, etc.). Now I should point out the film is still in post production so we were only able to see one scene rather than a full trailer. It was the choice of scene that floored me.

A lot of talk has been made in the last year of the Ozploitation film. Films made in the late 70's and early 80's that featured lots of gore and nudity. Apparently this is a uniquely Australian genre. I'd like to think in 10 years or so, MIFF will be acknowledging a more important unique Australian genre - the Ottozploitation film. These are films that feature Miranda Otto dancing around "unselfconsciously".

The most iconic of course is True Love & Chaos but there's also Love Serenade, Doing Time For Patsy Cline, to a lesser extent The Last Days Of Chez Nous, possibly Danny Deckchair (YOU sit through it and find out. I'm certainly not going to!) and now Blessed. I'd also like to think Cate Shortland was paying homage to this genre when Abbie Cornish coo-cachooed her way around that Jindabyne motel room in Somersault.

Kudos to Ana Kokkinos for resurrecting this genre. She's bringing it back. I hope the "love in a shared house" genre of the late 90's is next. There's nothing more I can really say about Blessed because all we got was 3 minutes of Miranda vamping it up to The Angels' No Secrets. Really. That's it. She may have been drunk. She didn't look filled with unbridled youthful joy like she did when she shook it to Tom Jones in True Love & Chaos. Oh a policewoman knocked on her door at the end of it. Annnnnnnd... Scene!

I'm not sure what we were supposed to conclude from that scene or how it was meant to entice us. Maybe it was hoping we would ask the question - "I wonder what Oz Rock classics Miranda will shimmy her way through next? Quick let's get down to Chaddy for the next session and find out! Fingers crossed for the Divinyls' Science Fiction!"

Is this enough to engage an audiences attention? Do we really want to a hinge a multi million dollar movie on the hope that Australian audiences have Ottophilia? I'm not saying every film has to make millions of dollars and pull in huge crowds to be considered a success. For all I know, Kokkinos considers Book Of Revelation her real triumph and Head On the disappointment. But then it comes back to the artist and their relationship with the audience.

What makes art successful? Do we create art just to create something beautiful on its own regardless of whether it will be seen by others or not? Can we afford to do that when millions of dollars are at stake? Is the success gauged by what we the artist get out of it - in other words, by allowing us to exorcise a demon, capture a moment of joy or allow a personal catharsis? Or does the audience response determine its worth? And if the audience aren't attracted to it, does that make it bad or are we looking at quality not quantity? On a small personal scale I'm finding with The Apocalypse Bear that even though the first episode has been seen by a lot more people (making it a quantitative success), the second episode feels like a greater success - both as an artistic achievement (making it a personal success) but also critically from the people who have seen it (making it a qualitative success).

So where does Australian film sit within all of this and how it presents itself to the world? When millions of dollars are pumped into a work of art, is it enough for us just to say we're creating something beautiful regardless of whether its seen widely or not? At first our instincts probably say no but as the wise Mr Wilson pointed out to me recently, huge amounts of cash are pumped into artworks and sculptures around roadways that nobody ever really looks at. They're just here to make our lives better. Could Australian film be the same thing? Something that exists to enrich our lives. It certainly holds more appeal than allowing an artist just to exorcise their demons through film on a million dollar budget.

The only difference I would point out is that with public art, the art is in the public arena so we see it whether we choose to or not. People drives those roadways every day. But people aren't making it into that cinema to see this other form of art so it never even has the chance to enrich their lives. So if this is true then the marketing suddenly becomes the most essential part of the whole process as this is the one thing that can bring the public to Australian film.

Suddenly a lot of weight has been put on Miranda Otto's dance moves if that's what's meant to inspire people to allow Blessed to enrich their lives. And will another film with Otto going hammer and tongs to a rock classic like your mother at a Dance-Along session of Mamma Mia really enrich anyones life?

These are the wild and wacky thoughts dancing through my brain on a rainy day in Amsterdam.

On a side note, the first Australian film I've seen this year is Mary & Max. The trailer perfectly showcases everything there is to love about the film - its observations on human existence and its skillful balance of humour and pathos. The film is a delight, one of the finest Australian films I've seen in many years, for one overriding reason. It has a strong personal unique voice. It gives us a window into somebody else's life and lets us walk in somebody else's shoes for 80 minutes. Maybe that's all a good film has to do. I, for one, definitely feel it enriched my life.

That's Not My Name

Well the Berlinale Talent Campus is almost coming to a close. For those of you who don't know, the Berlinale Talent Campus is run by the Berlin Film Festival and it brings together 350 filmmakers from 120 countries to get together and discuss film and art in the hope of building networks, co productions and inspiring us to change the world through film. So it's a crazy busy week filled with talking, meeting, talking, listening, talking, eating and some more talking. I noticed people tend to form alliances based on language and hair length. The actors are all insane and the production designers all dress wacky. I networked and schmoozed with all my might, even though Swedish cinematographers and Bosnian production designers are about as useful to me as the proverbial tits on a bull but who knows what the future might hold? Naturally everyone gets each other mixed up (as you do when you meet 350 in one week) and I've been given about 20 different names, nationalities and occupations during my time here. Somebody described me as that filmmaker who makes films about children finding condoms in toilets which I guess is kind of true if you were to combine all my films and add a condom I guess.

The talks certainly did inspire and the gears in my head are clicking away. Tilda Swinton did nothing to quell our fears of her by answering the question "what did people dream about before cinema?" by discussing why she's a Communist. Nice one, Tilda. I was able to have a chat with Janusz Kaminski (cinematographer of Schindler's List, Saving Private Ryan, The Diving Bell & The Butterfly) over breakfast and he was particularly inspiring. Those of you who have seen me eat, particularly in the morning when I'm that extra bit hungrier than usual, will join me in the belief that Janusz probably got as much out of our encounter as I did. Willem Dafoe answered my question about working with David Lynch on Wild At Heart by saying that Lynch prepared Dafoe and Laura Dern for the infamous "fuck me" scene at the motel by explaining that the scene had to go from green to brown. Well that's all you need really, isn't it?

So all in all - a very productive week. New friends, inspiration and a few films on the side. Suits me.

Plus Berlin is an amazing city, even though we're all freezing our giblets off as we run from theatre to theatre. And there's so much to love here, for example:

- The architecture. Fans of grey, brown and poured concrete will particularly feel at home. As I walk through the streets of Berlin, I can't help but get the feeling that the architect of the (sadly) now demolished Gas & Fuel Towers on Flinders Street would have gazed at the buildings around here exclaiming "Yes! Yes! YES! This is how life should look!"

- The drag queen who shot glitter guns at the crowd while performing "Because The Night". It wasn't that so much. It was more that they aimed it at our faces. They obviously mixed up their Patti Smith songs and meant to perform "Glitter In Their Eyes".

- They sell lemon Russkies on the train platforms. What? A fella can get thirsty, can't he??

- Lady Gaga clears dance floors here. Bite the big one, Gaga!

- Their support of Sarah Connor. Not the heroine from Terminator but the local pop star (though I must admit I'd love to see them combined. That final speech for Terminator 2 is just DYING to be played over some psy fi trance beats). She did have a single released in Australia, One Nite Stand (Of Wolves & Sheep), but it sank without a trace. Maybe because wolves and sheep are the last 2 things anybody wants to be thinking of when they have a one nite (sic) stand. But Germany stand by their own, except when they're Nena, and Sarah still tops the charts here and is plastered over many a billboard. Kudos Sarah!

- The public transport system. Say what you like about them invading Poland but you can't criticise their efficient, easy to use transportation Take a tip, Connex. The only downside was one evening when I needed to catch a taxi. I had been to see Cleopatra in the Berlinale 70mm Retrospective and unfortunately the festival had decided that 4 hours simply wasn't enough bang for our buck and had added an extra 20 minute musical interlude in the middle of the film. So by the time we crawled out of that cinema at 1.30 in the morning, after an unpleasant moment of me screaming "somebody throw that woman an asp and let's get the fuck out of here", the trains had already stopped. So I caught a taxi. Now he gave me a hell of a lot of attitude which I thought was odd considering as I had even spoken German and everything (look at the good I do!) but when he dropped me off I realised the trip was only 5 blocks, I could understand his frustration. But I will say in my defense that it was 1.30 in the morning, it was snowing and I had no idea where in the hell I was. Oh well!

I leave for Amsterdam on Monday. I'm spending the weekend seeing films and performing karaoke. Just try and stop me, Berlin!

Leaving On A Jet Plane

Well my 2009 European escapade got off to a less than auspicious beginning the minute I hit Tullamarine. I waited for close to an hour at the Qantas check in only to be served by a young lady called umm.. I think it was Ann or Veronica or.. oh I don't know, let's just call her Fuck Face. So Fuck Face tells me that my baggage is over the limit. Admittedly it was tipping the scales at the 37kg mark when there was a maximum of 25kg allowed and my "but I'm only 60kg personally so surely it all balances out" argument wasn't winning me any friends.

I was told I would have to lose some luggage weight. Looking for a win-win solution, I asked if I could pay an excess baggage fee and simply put 12kg into another bag. Fuck Face was all too happy to tell me that would cost me $900. I asked for some other solutions - could I send the other items separately by mail? No post office. Put them in storage? Not long term. I'd like to think that these were both perfectly acceptable questions to ask but my friend at the check in counter (who was quickly becoming the love of my life) looked at me as if I had suggested sprinkling magic pixie dust on them and thinking happy thoughts so that they could fly to Amsterdam by themselves. She said the only solution was for me to throw out 12kg of luggage.

Now those of you who know me probably know that I'm not one to give up easily, particularly to somebody with an unpleasant name such as Fuck Face so I had a good hard think. I threw out a bottle of shampoo which I hoped came to 12kg but in reality was about a twelfth of that. I then did some rethinking. And it came to me - makeover time! I went from wearing my tasteful "it's 33 degrees" clothing to putting on any item of clothing in my suitcase that carried a bit of weight. I was so layered up you could have stabbed me with a sword and I would have thought you were poking me with your finger.

Then came step two of my plan - filling the pockets. I transferred the remaining weight into my many pockets and cabin luggage. I went back to the check in desk but unfortunately Fuck Face has decided to take an early minute and had already gone home. Luckily the pink mafia were out in force and her replacement was all too willing to help me with my scheme to get a ridiculous amount of weight on board. He suggested that when I pass through customs, I take everything out of my cabin luggage bag and put it into separate buckets so they didn't know who it belonged to. Lo and behold - I managed to get through 16kg of cabin luggage. Nick Verso 1 Fuck Face 0.

The flight was pretty uneventful. I played my usual game in the departure lounge of working out which characters from Lost we would be if our plane were to crash somewhere in the Pacific and land on a tropical island. As usual, there was no Jack, a lot of Locks and I ended up as Kate.

I was a little disappointed I must say with the in flight entertainment. I had made an incorrect choice with my in flight reading by choosing the book Hold Tight by Harlan Coben. Apparently its an international bestseller which proves society is in deeper trouble than we think. Imagine if Jackie Collins went up to John Grisham at a cocktail party and said "we should write a little something about the kids of today. I'll handle the sub-standard prose and ridiculous characterisation if you come up with a contrived plot and cheesy dialogue". If that unholy alliance were to take place, Hold Tight would be the result. If you're lucky I'll read you some passages a little later.

So with nothing to read and Beverly HIlls Chihuahua being the promoted in flight movie, I decided to make good use of those Stilnox tablets. I was a little concerned that my observation that the woman on the plane next to me was working her way through a Virginia Andrews novel (working being the correct verb because you sure as hell can't read them) might result in some subconscious Stilnox side effects such as sleep crime and sexual nightmares of the incest variety but luckily this wasn't the case. I even checked with the woman next to me on landing. Apparently she thought I murmured "Grandma! No!" while twitching at one point but it might have just been gas.

Berlin is indeed cold but beautiful in its icy demeanor. The streets are cloaked in a rich mist and in the morning the streets are sprinkled with snow that melts as the sun's rays beam down upon it. I made two main observations in my first 5 minutes though.

One - there was a large packing post office at Berlin airport so that you could send additional items if your luggage is too heavy and you couldn't fit certain items inside. There was also a storage area. Just saying, Fuck Face.

Two - judging from the faces of many of Germany's fraulein, I have some news that will certainly bring some joy to my third grade emergency teacher. Apparently bright primary eye shadow is back in a big way. Twice in a lifetime, Mrs Maguire!

Stay tuned for news from Berlin including photos of Tilda "why so scary" Swinton.