22 Dreams

After many years of wondering and waiting I finally got to see this 80s "Ozploitation" film I'd been wishing to see for ages.   Dead End Drive-In , directed by Brian Trenchard-Smith, was released originally in 1986.   (I bought the DVD for work - such is the advantage of running a library.  And besides, the new Head of Film and TV requested that I source as many Australian films as I can, so...) My interest in this film is not necessarily because it's Aussie, or because it drips and and reeks with every 80s cliche, but because it's based on a short story that I love, that being Peter Carey's "Crabs". I'd never read a Peter Carey novel.  I've only read most of the short stories that make up the volume called "The Fat Man in History" of which the first story, 'Crabs', is the best.  With some writers you find yourself wanting more after reading one novel or story that you love; you're hungry to read the rest of their ...

It's easy for us to cast judgements based upon that which we read or see on the news broadcasts.  Climate change, or 'global warming' as it is often known, is the bulls-eye topic as far as markedly dividing the populace with the for-or-against arguments is concerned.  We see debates on television, read articles in the papers about melting poles and glaciers and devastating flash-floods that are happening in major cities 1000km up the coast.  We then walk outside and ascertain the validity of these 'global-warming' findings depending on if it's a hotter-than-usual day, a colder-than-usual day, and just plain too-nice a day to bother about it. What if we never read anything about global warming/climate change?  What if we never saw a news broadcast or television debate on the issue?  What if were totally uninformed in any way to do with anything on this matter?  What if we used our senses only to guide us?  What would we see, and what would we find? ...

I've been watching another iconically curious little Australian film recently, They're a Weird Mob , which dates back to 1966 and was filmed on location in Sydney during the summer of 1965/66.  As that date-dial wenched into 1966 my brother was about to turn 8 and my sister was 11 years old.  I was nowhere in the picture, in this physical body.  I was merely a potential at this stage, and being a potential, I could have landed anywhere.  Instead I landed in Sydney in 1970 where, 40+ years on, I still find myself living. The film itself is not wonderful.  It's hokey and dated and the plot itself is stilted, a little too make-believe, being much like the plot of a musical without the film actually being a musical.  It's a pithily enjoyable film to watch nevertheless, both as a period-piece and for the sense of innocence conveyed in the film, particularly for its comic innocence.   The romantic plot is quite conservatively portrayed, particularly wh...

Life often has this mysterious way of imitating art. allow me to explain.. Some six weeks ago I came across an Australian television film called The Plumber .  I encountered this TV play at work when I was asked to purchase a DVD copy of Peter Weir's 1974 cult-classic The Cars that ate Paris for our collection.  This DVD doubled with another of Weir's films, The Plumber , from 1978.  And being a major enthusiast of 70s Australiana I took home this double-feature almost immediately upon accessioning. I didn't get to watch all of The Cars that ate Paris .  Although intriguing, I just wasn't in the mood for it although I plan to get back to this film in due course.  I skipped instead to the DVD's second feature, The Plumber , featuring Judy Morris as the stay-at-home academic and Ivar Kants as the plumber. This rather odd drama almost defies classification, sitting somewhere as it does between psychological horror and wry, black comedy.  What ...

Sweet news: I had my first article published in suite 101 yesterday.  Over time I hope to build up a revenue stream with it; supply more articles, make more money.  If it comes to making about a coffee's worth of coin per year I'll be happy enough. Here is my article for suite 101, a review of Neil Finn's solo concert at the Seymour Centre in Sydney from a couple of weeks ago: click here I'm not entirely happy with this article.  I feel it's too self-conscious, wooden even, constrained.  I'm hoping in time I'll learn to relax just like I do on this blog and be able to write a bit more casually. I blew Neil an Italian-style opera-arrivederci kiss during the standing ovation.  Neil caught this and beamed in a flash as his eyes met mine momentarily.  I couldn't help but chuckle at this, to think that a year ago I wrote a decidedly salt'n'pepper article all to do with my mixed feelings about the man, why I loved him, why I hate him.   (link ...

Here's something I wrote eight years ago for the magazine.  It's a nice piece of writing so I'm uploading it here while I chisel my icy writersblock with a picksaw; on the brain is a Neil Finn concert review...but for now, a piece of, um, history!     This report is based on my idea of a 'Top 10' song list for all those songs I've encountered in the Society over the past 4 years.   Since I'm going to pull back a little next year I thought it appropriate to draft my idea of a 'Top 10' song list covering my time in the Society up till now. The sort of thing 'Q' magazine publishes every 3 months.    The list is subjective of course, and my opinion doesn't count for anything at all anyway.   What I will say though is that these songs represent excellent, and sometimes classic, examples of their respective genres, and as such, would be up there with any of the internationally renowned great albums.   While anyone who's been involved w...

Paul Weller, live at the Metro, Sydney, Oct 2010 1986 was the year my love of a certain songwriter-musician flew into high gear.  I was 16 years old in May 1986 when my sister bought me Paolo Hewitt's The Jam: a beat concerto .  I was immediately captivated with this biography: the photos, the story, the easy-to-read though poetic and incisive style of writing, and ultimately, Paul Weller.  I became a huge Jam fan, totally obsessed, and in varying degrees I remain so to this day. Here was a man who seemed to grow up with similar experiences to I and who looked so good and wrote such magnificent songs, who had such power and force of expression, and an acutely good musical ear.  Paul Weller, along with John Lennon, was my man. I never dreamt I would see Paul Weller perform live.  By 1986 the Jam were dead and the Style Council were moving into making album statements away from live performance; it had been the Council's tour of Australia in 1985 that awake...