Review: Jedda

Story of the title Aboriginal girl whose mother dies at childbirth and white woman Betty Suttor’s own baby dies the same die. What’s an archaic white Australian woman to do? Why raise the Aboriginal baby herself and attempt to make her ‘fit in’ to white society, that’s what! But Jedda grows up (now played by Ngarla Kunoth, real name Rosalie Kunoth-Monks) caught between two cultures, never fully a part of either. And then that oh-so fetching, wild aboriginal stud (Robert Tudawali) turns up, and all hell breaks loose, leading to a soap-opera, cliff-hanger-style finale supposedly filmed in the Northern Territory, but really the Blue Mountains in NSW. Paul Reynall plays Joe, a trusted half-caste head stockman who also fancies Jedda.

1955 Charles Chauvel (a genuine Aussie cinema pioneer, it must be said) film, the first colour film made in Australia, is a cinematic landmark in this country, and is undeniably gorgeous to look at just from a colour standpoint. But thematically I have a very different take on this film than many others. Whilst a lot of people praise this film for showing how, the then Australian Government’s policy of removing Aboriginal children from their homes was a doomed one (and thus it merely reflects the attitudes and practices of the time), I see this as being nullified by practically everything else in the film. Yes, the film somewhat accurately reflects what went on at the time in the minds of white people especially, and yes one character (Jedda’s white ‘father’) outlines the futility of such an attempt to try and assimilate Aboriginals into white society. But I do not under any circumstance think the director sees the practice that led to the ‘stolen generation’ (and I’m using inverted commas simply because everyone else seems to, I do not believe the whole thing to be as overstated as some stubborn-arsed white Australians seem to believe) as a bad thing at the end of the day (many Australians still don’t, appallingly). Why is that? Firstly, he never demonises the white characters, even though they pretty much all berate, racially abuse, patronise (the film’s narrator concludes that Jedda’s spirit still exists in the land, and she is like a ‘wild goose flying with her people’. Oh. My. Frigging. God.), and continually treat them as third class citizens (with half-castes being second-class at best), without any condemnation whatsoever. And the only white character (the white ‘father’) who seems to have a problem with what is happening to the Aborigines, is really only suggesting that they are like wild animals, unable to be tamed, which is a gross oversimplification at worst, incredibly naive and ignorant but well-meaning at best. He does, however, respect their culture and way of life, as best he can. But c’mon, one character? One? Oh, well, that’s all one can expect for the 1950s I suppose, given the practices of the ‘stolen generation’ were still in place until the 70s!

And then we get to the film’s depiction of the aboriginal characters themselves. Oh, boy! (And I don’t mean ‘boy’ in the racist sense, really I don’t!) The film’s narrator is a half-caste played by Paul Clarke (who, like many of the actors, was renamed by the director for god knows what bloody reason), who is a white actor in blackface (in his only film appearance, poor bugger). Whilst the somewhat archaic colour process has made him and the other ‘black’ characters look especially dark (to the point where facial features can barely be seen, it’s the only negative aspect to the film’s otherwise interesting visuals), this character is offensive anyway. This is because he’s the film’s mouthpiece, a half-caste who represents, and pretty much supports, assimilation. He even wishes to marry Jedda, therefore helping in the assimilation process. The full-blooded Aboriginal characters fare even worse (the youngest of which are disgustingly referred to as ‘piccaninnies’, by whites, incidentally!), especially Jedda herself. She becomes mesmerised by a troubled tribal Aboriginal named Marbuck (Tudawali), who is continually stirring up trouble. Not only does this present non-assimilated Aboriginals as degenerate, one-dimensional and untamed, but when Marbuck does a sort of seductive tribal dance for her (this Jedda sure is popular with the lads, my word! Was she trained in some kind of Aboriginal variant of the Kama Sutra or something?), it sends Jedda into an hormonal frenzy so freaking absurd that she behaves like one of those hopped up juveniles in one of those early delinquent films like “Reefer Madness”. What the hell is this doing in a supposedly serious examination of the policy of assimilation of the Aboriginal people? The answer is, if it is indeed a serious examination, it is at the very least a shamefully outdated, and unintentionally funny one (if it weren’t so incredibly sad and shameful). And that may be hitting the nail right on the head there, folks. The film may indeed have been pretty progressive for 1955, but now it can be seen as foolishly outdated and offensive by modern film-goers, and thus it is offensive both in subject and, ironically, treatment. Modern viewers like me are likely to be unable to see the film’s progressive nature (hey, at least it’s discussing Aboriginal issues right? Representation is better than absence, isn’t it? Well, um...usually I’m for that, but it’s a bit hard to argue that here, if you ask me!), because of the truly offensive portrayal of its indigenous characters.

And yet, with all this said, and my poor rating notwithstanding, I’m still recommending this (sometimes hard to locate) film for at least one viewing. It is an important historical document not only in the cinematic sense (it’s also worthwhile as being one of the worst Australian films I’ve ever seen, a curio in that sense), but also in providing us with insight into how our country (shamefully slowly) started to get its head around ‘the other’, albeit wrong-headedly here. See it once, and feel just a little less patriotic afterwards. But hey, at least we said ‘Sorry’ in 2008 (and so we bloody should have, if only because the previous PM went out of his way not to say the word, the pedantic, cowardly bastard! But that’s only part of the reason I thought it was a good thing. But I digress), so maybe we’re finally starting to get there on this issue of looking after our poorly-treated indigenous people.

Finally, I’d just like to say how profoundly ‘sorry’ I am for this film and any past, present, or future mistreatment of the Indigenous peoples of Australia.

Rating: C-