Back in my ville natale last week on family matters, I watched the Anzac Day coverage on the local NBN news, and was amazed that it just went on and on and on. Aside from the shots of cententarians and 90-somethings marching or being wheeled through the streets of Sydney, there was footage of commemorations in a long procession of towns in the Hunter region, from Wangi to Cessnock.
It seems that one year’s respite from Anzac ceremonies has given us a huge for this annual ritual. Is it a sign of a nation alert to its own historical tragedies, or another excuse to plunge into witless nationalism? Probably a bit of both. While it was touching to watch so many aged diggers taking to the streets, the really appalling feature of the day was the huge emphasis on Two-up games – this being the only day when this form of gambling is allowed. It was like watching the Lotto coverage, or the betting propaganda plastered all over the football matches. Someone is making money from the Two-up craze and benefitting from a huge amount of free media coverage – unless the stations have already done a sly deal.
It’s typical of the way we have poisoned and commercialised Anzac Day, as if this were the only way of restoring public interest. Think of the beach at Gallipoli being used as the site of a rave party and you get the idea.
Speaking of raves, even I was shocked to hear of Scummo speaking so candidly about “the evil one” to a group of like-minded evangelicals. At first I was amazed he’d risk talking about Rupert Murdoch like that, but gradually I realised he was referring to that lesser evil, the Devil.
Frankly it shouldn’t matter if the PM were an evangelical or a Jedi warrior, so long as he kept his doctrinal views to himself. What’s truly disturbing is the way his brand of Christianity concentrates on establishing a personal relationship with Jesus that seems to ensure whatever the true believer does – no matter how morally abhorrent – is given the green light. Treat the refugees barbarously? That’s fine. Allow the environment to be despoiled so that big corporations can increase their profits? No problem with that. Women? Surely they’re satisfied by the joys of child-rearing and housekeeping. When JC is on your side it’s OK to do anything you like.
What I found most unpleasant about this little address, was the bit about ‘laying on hands’.
“I’ve been in evacuation centres where people thought I was just giving someone a hug and I was praying, and putting my hands on people,” he said “ … laying hands on them and praying in various situations.” In other hands he is surreptitiously conferring a blessing on people, allowing them to share in that portion of God’s grace which has already been bestowed on him.
It may be intended as a good deed but it sounds a bit creepy, like some form of spiritual molestation. It is also, coincidentally, an excellent photo opportunity if you want to show how compassionate you are. When something goes wrong, such as a pregnant woman who had just lost everything in a bush fire refusing to grasp the outstretched hand, the preferred tactic is to turn tail and run off. Such ungrateful people are probably in league with the evil one, or at least with his son, Lachlan.
This week’s art column looks at She-Oak and Sunlight, the National Gallery of Victoria’s latest overview of the Australian Impressionists. This is at least the third major survey of the period that I’ve written about, along with retrospectives of all the major artists, so it’s familiar territory. As familiarity breeds cynicism, I was surprised to find myself so engrossed with this show, skillfully put together by guest curator, Anna Gray. I really felt at times as if I were seeing the artists through fresh eyes.
To be realistic there was little that was genuinely new, but it’s the job of the curator to construct a narrative that engages the viewer’s attention, and in this respect the NGV show was a success.
The latest film column, as requested by the newspaper, is an extended reflection on this year’s Academy Awards – probably the most politicised Oscars of all time. Although I rather like the idea of a different bunch of films getting the attention it’s probably the result of the limited release schedule of the pandemic year and the political hangover from the Trump presidency, and the trauma it inflicted on the American psyche. There’s no doubt who is most responsible for the “woke” state of the new Hollywood, and it ain’t Joe Biden.