AustLit

'We’ve seen this scenario before, but only in the cinema: a mysterious plague, for which there is no cure, suddenly appears out of nowhere and ravages the globe. In everything from Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal (1957), dealing with the Black Plague in the 1300s, to Steven Soderbergh’s Contagion (2011), in which a mysterious virus causes agonizing death in a matter of days, society is unprepared for what befalls it, scampering uselessly in circles to contain the spread of the disease. This time, however, there is no barrier between the spectacle we witness unfolding on the screen and the audience. This time, the threat is real. And as in the cinematic iterations of a viral pandemic, we are unprepared in real life.' (Introduction)

'Although born in New Zealand, Cecil Holmes is nevertheless one of the most significant and ambitious filmmakers to work in Australia between the 1950s and the 1970s. A dedicated leftist, in fact a communist, his work consistently demonstrated a humanitarian commitment to the socially disenfranchised, ranging from the underlying capitalist conditions that force decent citizens into bushranging and stealing, to the social, political, cultural and economic conditions confronting Indigenous communities in contemporary Australia. After starting his career with New Zealand’s National Film Unit – where he made the Grierson-like short, The Coaster (1948), and Golden Bay (1949), amongst others – Holmes instigated the first public-service strike in his homeland, and not long after fled to Australia. His initial work in his new country was completed under John Heyer at the Shell Film Unit, hardly the most apt or nurturing environment for a filmmaker of Holmes’s overriding political, social and cultural allegiances. Moving out from under such corporate and governmental patronage was certainly the making of Holmes as a filmmaker, even if he then often struggled to get his subsequent films of the 1950s into the marketplace and onto screens.' (Introduction)

'Cecil Holmes’s Three in One (1956) represents one of the highpoints of postwar Australian cinema, reframing the common or characteristic theme of “mateship” within more explicitly leftist contexts. But what is most remarkable about the film – which is admittedly uneven in quality, possibly inevitably so considering its tripartite form – is its visual style, both reaffirming and transforming the common preoccupations commonly found in Australian landscape cinema. Also significant are the international models of filmmaking aesthetics that it openly draws upon, ranging from Soviet Montage to Italian neorealism. These plainly visible influences also betray Holmes’s cinephilia; he was a key figure in the New Zealand film society movement of the 1940s, and ran a company, New Dawn Films, that distributed European cinema later in the 1950s.' (Introduction)

'When looking back at the filmography of Australia’s national cinema, it’s almost impossible to overstate the significance of My Brilliant Career (Gillian Armstrong, 1979). Released at the height of the Australian New Wave, the film has been rightfully labelled the country’s first feminist feature film. Fittingly, then, it is also notable for launching the career of director Gillian Armstrong, who became the first Australian woman to helm a feature in a staggering 46 years. My Brilliant Career is emblematic of a cultural and institutional shift in the 1970s that saw the creation of the Australian Film Development Corporation (AFDC). Along with the development of a production fund and distribution network, the AFDC established the Australian Film and Television School. Armstrong was a member of the school’s inaugural graduating class along with fellow director Phillip Noyce; subsequent alumni would include key proponents of the New Australian Cinema like Peter Weir and Bruce Beresford. As feminism became a part of the Australian public consciousness, organisations like the Sydney Women’s Film Group (SWFG) agitated for female representation and content. Armstrong acknowledged that “the SWFG had a powerful effect that really did pay off.” Crucially for Armstrong, this climate opened up a space where the idea of a female Australian auteur could be imagined for the first time.' (Introduction)