Top grossing Australian films

This local box office information is really hard to find. Most of these successful films had to recoup their investment overseas.

1. Crocodile Dundee – $44.7m [cost $11.5m]
2. Australia – $36.78m [cost $78m]
3. Babe – $36.77m [budget unknown]
4. Happy Feet – $31.8m [cost $133m]
5. Moulin Rouge – $27.7m [cost $100m
6. Crocodile Dundee 2 - $24.9m [cost $16m]
7. Strictly Ballroom – $21.8m [cost $3m]
8. The Dish – $18m [budget unknown]
9. The Man From Snowy River – $17.2m [budget unknown]
10. The Adventures of Priscilla Queen of the Desert – $16.5m [cost $2m]

(info taken from Wikipedia)

After finishing a bunch of website interfaces, I turn from my computer screen to daytime TV and there before me – was the legendary Barry Crocker. I know he’s getting on, but my personal disillusionment with the Australian Film & TV industry seems never-ending. There was THE infamous Barry McKenzie, dressed as an old wizard in an afternoon kids’ TV show called “Magic Tales”.

The only reason why we’re even seeing Australian TV shows is because the ABA enforces it. Without the Australian Broadcasting Authority, we wouldn’t be watching anything but news.

So why do we even bother to make Australian Television? And why does the Australian government finance our feature films for that matter? According to tradewatch.org.au

Local Content Rules in Australian TV and radio ensure that Australian stories and Australian voices are heard over the deluge of American programming. But the US, not content with this, has used the FTA to limit Australia’s right to regulate its film, TV and radio.

That was printed in 2004 and not much has changed. The US Government restricts the amount of US-made shows airing by having a foreign content policy. A small percentage of TV shows must be made in other countries. That way, US citizens get to see their shows in a world context. In Australia, our government enforces commercial stations to screen a certain amount of locally made drama (which can cost up to ten times the budget of cheaply imported US content). It’s all about face here and the Free Trade agreement didn’t help. The US wants us to cap the percentage of Australian content because their massive budgets require foreign sales to turn a profit. The last “Australian” films to make their budget back were Happy Feet (if you can call that Australian) and Kenny.

So – back to Barry Crocker.

I’m sure there was a lot of on-set respect for Barry during the filming of “Magic Tales”. I understand that an actor has to pay bills, but seeing Barry in a government-sponsored, government-enforced (via the ABA) show was kind of sad. He wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for the ABA.

So, are we deluding ourselves? What Australian Film and TV Industry? The 1970s, it would seem, were the Australian movie industry years.

I thought of the many American actors who, like Barry, had a similar time playing in the sunshine of youth. I thought of the many washed-up actors who, like John Travolta and Mickey Rourke, were lucky enough to find that second wind. Is such a thing even possible in Australia?

Maybe it’s just me. Or it’s just what happens when an actor grows old.

Obvious? … Maybe. But we directors have to listen carefully to our creative accomplices, which often means learning to read between the lines.

Here are a few other responses an editor might give you.

1. Process? Just give me the script and the original footage.

This always works well with very experienced editors. Hand the script and the footage over.

I once had the opportunity of working with Tim Wellburn – an Australian feature film editor with over 40 years of feature films to his credit (including Mad Max 2). He knew how to read scripts and get to the core of the character. As a general rule, it’s polite to let anybody more experienced than you to do their thing. There’s no need to look over his/her shoulder.

You might also get this response from an inexperienced editor. Perhaps let them have a go and see what they come up with. But make sure they know that you will, ultimately, want final say and that it may have to be done again … and again … and again (and in my experience … again).

2. Give me the footage. I don’t need the script.

Okay. For me – this answer rings alarm bells. The story (providing the Director has captured it on film) should be in the script. It’s the blueprint. It’s what attracted the actor/money in the first place. Something there has already worked – especially if you are in production.

Respect the script!

Having said that – many beginner editors have shown me new and interesting things when I’ve left them to it. I try not to hover. In most cases, we eventually come back to the screenplay. If you have an iconoclastic editor on your hands, it might be a nice idea to see what they come up with. Sometimes the Director’s intentions weren’t manifest on the day and throwing things up in the air like this may be a good way to solve coverage problems.

3. I dunno. What do you want?

Here’s an editor willing to open lines of communication. Or – they might be tired or suspicious because they’ve heard this question before. Sometime editors might hear I’d like you to do it my way. There’s nothing more annoying for an editor than a director looking over your shoulder while you make – every – single – cut!

Be sensitive, Directors. Or – choose an editor who (you think) is better than you are at editing in the first place. Cut it yourself if you can’t.

In other words, Directors, find a way to trust your editor. Editors should be adding something to a work. Good ones fix director’s mistakes!

4. I have no idea what I’m looking at. I need your script, notes, camera sheets, a paper cut etc.

The admirable answer. This editor knows that his time will be cut in half if he gets inside the director’s head. A rough Director’s paper cut is one good way of doing that. In most cases, directors don’t know what they want. Giving the editor as much information as possible saves time and frees up the editor. You want your editor involved! This answer does mean more work for the director.

5. Chillax! Let’s have a cup of coffee.

Another good answer. But beware. It might be an alarm bell.

Getting along with your editor doesn’t guarantee great work. Even though an afternoon coffee may turn into an all night pub-crawl and finding your new best friend, it doesn’t mean that you are both on the same page. The first rough cut will tell you that.

Make sure, if you do have coffee, beer or biscuits with your editor, that you talk about the film. Don’t talk too much about life and philosophy – especially if you’re on a budget – or you’re working with an experienced professional who has cut fees to help you out. He may not want to be your friend and so you have to respect his time. The person you are talking to may not be a good listener – or what you are hearing might make sense in a different way to what your editor intends.

You really need to get into the cutting room after the editor has had a go at the film.

Whoever said that a director’s job finishes at “It’s a wrap”?

NB: The knife cuts both ways. An editor might ask the director how he/she likes to work. Each and every film – whether drama or documentary comes with its own cutting-room challenges. Ask the right questions, be nice to people and don’t treat your editor like a splicing machine.

Cupid geoff

Ed says: I don’t earn a living making films. I wouldn’t dare. It would kill the love and passion I have for filmmaking. No. I teach and build websites for a living. But I do make films regularly.

They’ll never tell you, but Australian kids’ TV Directors get between $2,000 and $5,000 per episode, depending on their agent and perceived status or experrience. Perceived. Exec. Producers are on about $20,000(+) per episode. Some people are actually in it for the money. And IMHO – it shows.

I’ve directed and shot over 20 short docos in the last year alone and sometimes – they renumerate me. If I get paid to shoot, write or direct something – it’s a rare event. I consider the fee pocket money because it’s barely enough to live on.

So I’ve decided to make this film for love. I’ve watched this credit card disaster unfold slowly and I’m determined to get some kind of ROI on my time. I figure that if you make a film for nothing (but percentage points for all involved) and you sell it for $100 – that’s infinity percent profit. If you’re on points you might have to split the $100 – but you are all, basically, business partners in profit.

I’m writing this as I upload this Youtube test scene of the actor during a character run. Lauri des Marais did the backing music. Leave a comment on the website if you’re into it.

But . . . Perth?

Sure – in Perth, every time you go location scouting, you get a call from the cops. One or two km’s over the speed limit, and you’ll be chased down – while your house is being robbed.

But that’s Perth. We roll with the bogan king-hits and the random, alcohol-fuelled stabbings.

It’s your life, pal. I’m chasing the stars. I’m off to Sydney first . . . or Melbourne. And then it’s Hollywood or Bust.

Good luck to you!

There’s one really great thing about Perth, besides it’s small population (1.5m), only 245 rain-free days per year, magnificent unpopulated beaches and an average yearly temperature of around 24°C . . . Nobody knows it’s here.

So – shhhhhhhhhh!

You don’t have the money for the London Philharmonic and you can’t afford the rights to Air’s Walkie Talkie – but you do have a small budget (or grant, or sponsor) and you’ve decided you want someone to score music specifically for your film.

There are several ways to go about this.

Approach a professional composer

Composers who do really good work are often good because they are very particular about their compositions. They may be used to working in isolation and, in effect, are already directing music in the same way as a director is directing a film – or a novel writer their book. It’s possible that a musician will frown upon the idea of sitting in the same room with Herr Direcktor whilst seeking audience with their muse.

So how do two brilliant and yet temperamental animals work together? Well – the director has two choices; Show them the finished film or don’t show the film.

The first choice can often result in the musician re-writing the director’s work in musical form. This might be okay if that’s what you want. But hearing the same story that is being told can sometimes come over as tautological. This doesn’t always happen. Some musicians understand that music has to assist or even ultimately take back seat to story – illuminating some aspect of character or even running counterpoint to your protagonist’s emotional journey.

What you don’t want is the tautological retelling of the emotional story in sound. It’s a horrible thing to watch.

The second method is to just sit with the composer and describe the scene in detail. There’s no pressure for the composer to perform and the environment is familiar. Scoring to nothing (essentially) can result in a more natural, less pointed and unencumbered piece of music.

I recently rocked up to a composer’s studio without a cut of the film (in fact – there was only a rough draft) and the composer was able to – freely – create a piece of music. I knew I wanted a 1 minute uninterrupted piece and several 10-15 second transitions. The composer enjoyed working this way and was able to score for a variety of moments in the film just by picking up on body language and brief verbal character sketches.

Admittedly, this was a series of short films and so the rigors of constructing a (non-derivative) melody for an entire feature film or TV series are quite different – but at least the filmmaker can get a taste of what is possible.

It’s also important to have some boundaries when you sit in with the composer (such as segment length, rough story shape) as the session can end up, basically, becoming a jam session which can go endlessly on into the night or day.

But, as life is short, that may not actually be such a bad thing.

As a director, I think it’s polite to ask how a person likes to work – whether they have a tried and true process or not. “How do you like to work?” I ask. In many cases, the question is met with a blank or even perplexed stare. “I usually get the footage and start cutting,” comes the (often embarrassingly predictable) reply. “What other way is there?”

Obvious? … Maybe. But we directors have to listen carefully to our creative accomplices, which often means learning to read between the lines.

Here are a few other responses an editor might give you.

1. Process? Just give me the script and the original footage.

This always works well with very experienced editors. Hand the script and the footage over.

I once had the opportunity of working with Tim Wellburn – an Australian feature film editor with over 40 years of feature films to his credit. He knew how to read scripts and get to the core of the character via editing. As a general rule, it’s always polite to leave the experienced editors to do their thing. There’s no need to look over his/her shoulder.

You might get the same reply from an inexperienced editor. Perhaps let them have a go at it and see what they come up with. But make sure they know that you will, ultimately, want final say and that it may have to be done again … and again … and again (and in my case … again).

2. Give me the footage. I don’t need the script.

Okay. For me – this answer rings alarm bells. The story (providing the Director has captured it on film) should be in the script. It’s the blueprint. It’s what attracted the actor/money in the first place. Something there has already worked – especially if you are in production.

Respect the script!

Having said that – many beginner editors have shown me new and interesting things when I’ve left them to it. I try not to hover. In most cases, we eventually come back to the screenplay. If you have an iconoclastic editor on your hands, it might be a nice idea to see what they come up with. Sometimes the Director’s intentions weren’t manifest on the day and throwing things up in the air like this may be a good way to solve coverage problems.

3. I dunno. What do you want?

Good. Here is an editor willing to open lines of communication. Or – they might be tired or suspicious because they’ve heard this question before – hearing it as I’d like you to do it my way. And there’s nothing more annoying for an editor than a director looking over your shoulder while you make – every – single – cut!

Be sensitive, Directors. Or – choose an editor who (you think) is better than you are at editing in the first place.

In other words, Directors, find a way to trust your editor. Editors should be adding something to a work – maybe even fixing director’s mistakes!

4. I have no idea what I’m looking at. I need your script, notes, camera sheets etc.

The admirable answer. This editor knows that his time will be cut in half if he gets inside the director’s head. In most cases, directors don’t know what they want. Giving the editor as much information as possible cuts time and frees up the editor. You want your editor involved! Although this answer will mean more work for the director.

5. Let’s have a cup of coffee.

Another good answer. But beware. It could be another alarm bell.

Getting along with your editor doesn’t guarantee great work. Even though an afternoon coffee may turn into an all night pub-crawl and finding your new best friend, it doesn’t mean that you are both on the same page. The first rough cut will tell you that.

Make sure, if you do have coffee and biscuits with your editor, that you talk about the film. Don’t talk too much about life and philosophy. The person you are talking to may not be a good listener – or what you are hearing makes sense in a different way to what your editor intends.

You really need to get into the cutting room after the editor has had a go at the film.

Whoever said that a director’s job finishes at “It’s a wrap”?

NB: The knife cuts both ways. An editor might ask the director how he/she likes to work. Each and every film – whether drama or documentary comes with its own cutting-room challenges. Ask the right questions, be nice to people and don’t treat your editor like a splicing machine.

I originally wrote a narrative screenplay – but actually sticking to it for the doco format – was tricky. We really had to go with other things that happened on the day (as one might expect). We managed to capture the essence of the screenplay, however, and some of the scenes are very moving and emotional.

Technical

I shot 1.5 hours of HD with a Sony HDV camera throughout one day. What a lovely, easy-to-use camera. We literally switched it on and started shooting. I had to ride the exposure and focus a little, but the automatic functions allowed me to, literally, interrupt what the camera was doing by touching a dial and going manual – something like cruise control on a car. I was worried about sound (we used a simple RODE directional mic. and camera sound) but it came out nicely and the images are lovely.

I am very humbled to think that the films we make for DADAA are copyright “the subject” (ie. the person we are filming) and I can’t wait to see what the various editors and musicians do with the finished film.

All in all – it made me realise that I really do love filmmaking. Sometimes you lose track of why you are doing such a difficult thing. And then it hits you. Like it did for me on Tuesday.